


take two!

by blackbluewoo



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Donghun is a little bit of an asshole, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Very brief mention of an animal dying, Wowkwan if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 05:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbluewoo/pseuds/blackbluewoo
Summary: “What?” Junhee yells.“For publicity,” Donghun’s agent says. “Actually, if you look online, there’s already a lot of speculation about you two. All you have to do is confirm it.”“How do we do that?” Donghun asks.Junhee looks towards him, in disbelief.“You can’t seriously be considering this.”Donghun just shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.>>Donghun and Junhee are roped into being in a pretend relationship with some not-so-pretend feelings.





	take two!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Halluciinatiion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halluciinatiion/gifts).

> hello ^-^  
happy birthday aurora!! i hope this year is sweeter than the last, and u get everything u hoped for <3 ily  
i hope u enjoy reading , there are no other notices/warnings for this piece. it's a long one though, so get some popcorn!!
> 
> p.s here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3CBEgqgIqHVgyJOUZ8whEJ?si=mT0qIGjJR5-vnq8eqRlhwg) for this fic :D

Act One 

The first time Junhee sees Lee Donghun is on the movie screen, face lit up with perfectly-timed fireworks, anger burning in his eyes as he confronts the villain that murdered his lover in cold blood. 

When Junhee sees his face, projected across the wall of the cinema, larger than life and oh-so-flawless, he draws in a small breath, and feels something pool at the bottom of his stomach. 

You could say that Lee Donghun is everything Park Junhee wants to be.

As he progresses through the first stages of his career, with small indie films leading to bigger acting roles besides slightly more notable names in the industry, Park Junhee’s biggest fear, just maybe, is that he’ll run into Lee Donghun and do something horrifyingly embarrassing that’ll make the man hate him forever.

Luckily, or unluckily, fate never seems to align them. 

At least, not until Junhee gets his first lead role - the main in a gay love story. Maybe that type of role wouldn’t be revolutionary in some places, but the budget the director lays out in front of Junhee, coupled with the script written by important people who Junhee recognises from romcoms when he was young, makes him realise that he might just be a part of something far bigger than himself.

The screen test is nothing new for him. Most movies he’s been in are small, low budget, and definitely never something as important or susceptible to heavy scrutiny as much as this.

“Do I have any idea who the other lead is?” Junhee asks his agent, leg bouncing, script wrinkled in his grip.

“You haven’t heard?” His agent replies. Slight shock makes itself known on her face, but a smile twitches at her mouth.

“No…?”

His agent laughs a little at that and looks down the abstractly patterned corridor, twisting the plastic cup in her hand.

“I thought you were nervous because of that.”

“So they’ve already decided? One hundred percent?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Is he a big name or something?” 

His agent looks at him with a twinkle in her eye, and tries her hardest to repress a smirk. 

“I think you’re going to really enjoy this screen test, Park Junhee.” 

“Wh-” he begins, but he’s interrupted by a producer, most likely, emerging from behind the closed door to call his name. The producer looks tired, messy hair and exhausted eyes, glasses sitting crooked, so Junhee does his best to accommodate, rising quickly to his feet. 

He turns behind him to mouth _ “Who?” _ at his agent one final time, before she shakes her head and throws her hands in the air in a shrug. Junhee wants to curse her out, but he’s quickly ushered into the screen testing room -- a hand at the small of his back, pushing him through, the door shut quickly behind him.

The room, all white with a green screen and a table full of half-asleep directors, is the least interesting thing Junhee notices when he enters.

Because he sees Lee Donghun.

The Lee Donghun.

World class actor, starring in both Korean and Hollywood films, the lead role in a drama with the highest gross profit in South Korea that year, one of the only mainstream, openly gay actors in the entire industry, and he’s just standing there-- in a suit jacket, dripping in jewellery, whistling as he flips through his script. His hair falls, too-long and roots grown out, into his eyes, and he clearly doesn’t notice when Junhee enters the room.

“Donghun,” the producer calls, clearly familiar with the other man. “Your partner’s here.”

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _ He’s Donghun’s partner. _The Lee Donghun_. Standing right here, right in front of him, suit jacket and jewellery and hard gaze. 

Junhee pats his hair, vaguely aware that he had tried something new and it wasn’t working. What is he doing with his arms? How is he standing? Should he say something? Does he look disrespectful?

Donghun looks up, eyes just barely raised to look at Junhee. He sets down his script to one side, on the table where the producers all sit, and takes several long strides towards Junhee.

Junhee can feel the nerves coiling in his stomach as he meets Donghun's eyes.

Donghun bows, and Junhee quickly follows suit, bending an entire 90 degrees with his hands steeled by his side. He can hear Donghun’s laugh as he straightens -- sounding so much richer, deeper -- in person than it does every time he’s heard it on film.

“It’s nice to meet you, Park Junhee,” Donghun says, soft, hand extended for a handshake.

_ Park Junhee, oh my god, that’s his name. That’s his name. Lee Donghun said his name. _

“Yes- um, you too. G-good to see you,” Junhee returns, grabbing Donghun’s hand weakly in a failed handshake. 

Donghun raises an eyebrow, and wipes his hand on his side. Junhee winces at the action, almost wants to fall to his feet in an apology for the inadequacy of his greeting. However, Donghun turns back to his script almost immediately, and Junhee looks towards the directors who are muttering amongst themselves, a plea in his eyes, trying to catch their attention to him so they can begin the reading. 

“Okay,” one of them finally breaks the silence, and Junhee could burst with joy at his thankfulness. “Junhee, I take it you’ve read over the scene we gave you? We’re gonna be reading from line twelve, Donghun beginning with ‘So what did you…’okay?”

Junhee nods furiously. Despite his ever so slight, not at all debilitating crush on Lee Donghun, if there's one thing he can do -- it’s act. 

“Okay,” The producer looks towards Donghun. “whenever you’re ready.”

━

“Why!” Junhee yells, kicking and punching the air. “Why! Why didn’t you tell me!”

His agent only laughs at that, eyes sparkling at Junhee’s misfortune. 

“I knew you’d react like this,” she says, stopping at the car door to pull out her keys. “Maybe you wouldn’t have even taken the role if I had told you, and I know you can get this one, Jun.” 

Junhee shoots her an angry glare before patting down his side for his phone. He feels the outline in his back pocket, belatedly realising he’s missing something else.

“Fuck, seriously,” he sighs. His agent looks over at him, curious. “I forgot my jacket,” he says. “Just give me a second.” 

He sprints back, across the parking lot, towards the entrance of the building. The building, despite it being brightly lit and clear in all other aspects, is a snaking one-storey maze, which causes Junhee to press his ear to any prospective doors before making his entrance, in fear of disturbing anything else that could be happening.

He travels down the most familiar corridor, ear to every door, trying to figure out which might allow him to enter and take his jacket back. Each door holds its own conversation, and each eavesdrop manages to turn out futile, until the final door -- where he hears an unmistakable voice.

“Yeah, I just had a couple screen tests. Both amateur actors,” Donghun’s voice comes, slightly muffled. “The last one was so nervous, you could just tell.”

_ Is this him? _

“Yeah. I’ve seen him act before and this was honestly --” Donghun breaks off into a laugh. “I don’t even know how he got to the screen testing. Maybe it was his face. I feel like such a joke, doing this film-- No, I don’t know his name. Jun-something. Park. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s obvious he’s just one of those pretty boys that made it here because he can kiss a guy and knows how to memorise a script.”

Something feels like it’s burning in the centre of Junhee’s chest. He knows something feels raw and heavy in his throat, and his eyes are aching with the threat of tears. I don’t even know how he got to the screen testing. Fuck. That’s Lee Donghun in there -- the Lee Donghun -- shittalking him on the phone, most probably to one of his celebrity friends, the ones that have connections to powerful and famous people and- here Junhee is. Listening to all of it.

He twists the door handle sharply, and pushes it open. The room is the same as it was before, and sure enough, Donghun stands in the middle -- back turned to Junhee -- and his jacket is slumped over a chair in the corner. 

Donghun turns his head over his shoulder, and as he sees Junhee, he raises both eyebrows. 

“I’ll call you back,” he says, in the same voice he had spoken to Junhee earlier.

He pushes this phone into his blazer pocket, the top hanging out. God. Of course he had one of those ridiculous plus-sized phones that could easily be replaced by a tablet. It just all added to Junhee’s quickly deteriorating image of him. Donghun turns, facing towards Junhee now, and puts crosses both his hands over his chest.

Junhee doesn’t know what to do. Some part of him wants to go and grab his jacket and leave -- but the way Donghun is looking at him now makes it clear, so clear, that he knows Junhee won’t say anything. _ What are you supposed to say in this situation? _ His acting degree never made it clear what to do when your senior ridicules you on the phone to his friend and you just want your jacket.

Luckily enough, Donghun breaks the silence by chuckling slightly. 

“Do you need something?” 

“I came for my jacket,” Junhee says, steady, trying not to let his voice break. 

“Do you still want it, or..?” 

Junhee swallows thickly, and shuts his eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes.

Donghun is still standing there, realer than ever, small smirk at the corner of his mouth and half-raised eyebrows. 

“What the fuck,” Junhee says. “What the fuck.”

Donghun sighs and looks off to the side, attention averted to the wall instead of Junhee’s face. It irritates Junhee how perfect Donghun still looks, even when the ugly part of him is showing.

“Is it your job to be an asshole to people you’ve only known for fifteen minutes?” 

He seems to find that one funny, by the way his smile gets bigger, and he turns back to Junhee.

“I’m sorry if you took it to heart,” he says -- careful, patronising. “I’ve only seen you act in your indie movies, and I didn’t see what all the hype about you was after today. Maybe I’m mistaken. You’re really new to the industry, and--”

“So I have to be terrible, right? Or can you just not accept the fact that-- that-- there’s finally another one of _ us _, following your groundwork-- is that what you’re bitter about? That I made it here so easily, because I’m pretty.”

Donghun’s smile fades, and there’s silence for a moment. 

“Is that all you wanted to say?” 

Junhee feels the embarrassment grate at him, at the back of his throat and his stomach and his eyes, his eyes which are going to give him away if he doesn’t do something. 

“I don’t have to prove myself to you,” Junhee says, finally, and turns on his heel to leave.

None of it feels real. 

The whole world, twisting and turning beneath his feet, and the sudden change from the lengthy corridors into the parking lot to the front seat of his agents car feels like it happens in seconds. 

She looks at Junhee, breathing heavily and rubbing at his eyes, with a concerned glance -- almost too afraid to ask. She’s been with him through everything, through his indie movies and rejected auditions and six month unemployment and the discrimination he faced with directors asking him invasive and downright homophobic questions. She’s seen him cry before, but it’s different this time -- because it’s fucking Lee Donghun, his idol, celebrity crush, that had insulted him to his face. 

“Where’s your jacket?” She asks. 

_ Fuck _. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Junhee says, quickly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Let’s just go. It’s fine.”

━

“So, Donghun--”

“Yeah.”

“The Lee Donghun--”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“Fuck, man,” Byeongkwan says.

“Thanks,” Junhee replies.

Byeongkwan reaches out to grab his shoulder, shake him back and forth slightly. Yuchan is nestled into Junhee’s side, head just leaned into the left side of his chest, Junhee’s arm draped over his shoulder. The three of them are sprawled on Junhee’s sofa bed, a tub of off-brand Ben and Jerry's sitting half eaten beside them. 

“I thought,” Yuchan begins. “that if he was South Korea’s most famous actor he could at least…”

“Be a decent person?” Byeongkwan finishes, digging his spoon into the ice cream again, then offering it to Junhee.

“I don’t know,” Junhee says as he shovels another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “I feel stupid for expecting anything at all. What do people call him anyways? A _ cold beauty _?”

“Well, at least you got noticed by your celebrity crush,” Yuchan jokes, pokes Junhee’s thigh. “Byeongkwan would die for Kim Sehyoon to notice him.” 

“Hey-” Byeongkwan startles. He takes his spoon out of his mouth and points it in Yuchan’s direction. “Don’t say his name.” 

“Kim Sehyoon, Kim Sehyoon, Kim Sehyoon-” Yuchan chants.

Soon enough, Byeongkwan dives forward, spoon discarded to one side, to rugby tackle Chan, and consequently, Junhee too. They both tumble backwards into the mattress, coughing and giggling, Junhee more so as he watches Byeongkwan sit atop Yuchan and pretend to choke him out. Yuchan is screaming, grabbing Byeongkwan’s hands frantically, pretending like he’s about to die. Junhee watches the two of them with a fond smile, sitting up straight again.

“What did I say? What did I say?” Byeongkwan yells, shaking Yuchan violently. 

“Don’t say his name- don’t--”

Junhee’s phone buzzes, and while the two carry on fighting, he leans over to check it. The blue screen is almost blinding in the dim light of his apartment, but after e turns down the brightness he can see the notification clearly. 

It’s an email, and as soon as he reads the title, he knows what it is.

He inhales sharply, and turns over his phone so it’s facing downwards.

“Guys,” he whispers. 

“Let go of me!” Chan shrieks.

“Not until you repeat what I said!” 

“Guys.” Junhee says, louder. 

“I’ll spit on you!” 

“I dare you!”

“Guys!” Junhee yells, reaches in between the two younger men fighting with a clap. 

Both of them turn to him, eyes wide, Byeongkwan still sitting on Yuchan with his hands around his neck. 

“I got the role,” Junhee whispers, smile crossing his face. 

The room erupts into screaming, the two boys both launching themselves in Junhee’s direction. He hooks both his arms around their shoulders, laughing as they scream and drag him to their feet. They put their heads together and start bouncing around in a circle, shouting, for what feels like forever, screaming and laughing and congratulating, until they all stop spinning and come to a pause, panting in the middle of Junhee’s living room.

Junhee can already feel the nerves and excitement rolling into one big ball that clogs the centre of his chest. 

“I should take the role, right? I should take it?” He says, eyes darting between Byeongkwan and Chan. 

“Yes!” The two of them shout, simultaneously. 

“What about--” Junhee stiffens a little, and clears his throat. “Donghun?” 

“What about him?” Byeongkwan says, indignant, taking a step back to cross his arms over his chest. 

Yuchan takes that as his cue to pull his forehead apart from Junhee’s, and slick his hair back with one hand. His other arm comes to hook around Junhee’s shoulder, and pull his hyung into his side. 

“You need to prove that not all of us are fucking assholes,” Byeongkwan announces, hands dropping to his side. “And then you can get back at him saying you’re just a pretty face.” 

Junhee runs his teeth against his bottom lip and exhales deeply.

“I don’t know.” 

His phone buzzes again. 

“Probably my agent,” he sighs, and dives across the mattress to answer it. 

The notification screen reads something very different. 

_ Junhee. This is Donghun. I want to apologise in person. Please meet me at my address. _

Junhee stares at it, mind not registering what’s written despite him reading and rereading it over and over again. There’s a location attached, and times that he’s free written beneath. 

This is more than surreal. Lee Donghun’s message is on his phone, asking to apologise. Asking Junhee to come over. Lee Donghun is going to be his love interest in an upcoming film. He’s going to be seeing a lot more of Donghun, whether he wants to or not.

“Earth to Junhee!” Yuchan yells, jumping onto his back. “We’re celebrating, and you’re reading your agent’s messages?” 

“Ah-” Junhee laughs, and sets his phone screen-down. “Sorry.” 

He rises quickly to his feet to rejoin the festivities, Donghun’s message still flashing in his mind.

━

The first thing Junhee thinks when he enters the lobby of Donghun’s apartment complex is: _ I shouldn’t be here. _

Junhee’s own apartment is by no means ratty, but rather simply just a one-bedroom studio apartment in a good place in the city. It cost him an arm and a leg, and a good word in from some of his connections, but he revelled in the feeling that he could talk above thirty decibels and not get angry glares from his neighbours the following morning. 

Donghun greets him down in the lobby, and he looks awfully like he belongs. Junhee doesn’t understand his slight obsession with refusing to wear shirts -- but it suits him, just a simple beige cardigan buttoned up, a lanyard dipping below his v-neck, exposing the plain of his chest. He’s wearing slacks, and slides, but he manages to make it look as if he’s going to walk down the biggest runaway there is. 

“Hi,” Junhee manages to stutter out. 

Donghun only smiles at him from the carpeted entrance to the elevator, and makes a vague gesture for Junhee to join him.

Somewhat awkwardly, Junhee waddles over, joins Donghun in his luxurious elevator with a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The elevator is key-activated, and Donghun unearths his lanyard to send them going upwards. 

“You look nervous,” Donghun chuckles, as the elevator sets into motion.

“Mm,” Junhee replies, trying very, very hard not to stare at Donghun’s downright glowy skin in the faint lighting. “This is just different.” 

The elevator stops, and the doors open to reveal Donghun’s penthouse. 

Junhee has never seen anything quite like it. While the lobby and elevator were quite extravagant in their own respect, the modernity of the apartment shocks him still. Glass windows spanning from floor to ceiling let the view of the city below pour in from every angle, light slashing along ridiculously long sofas and bars and a swirling staircase that leads, undoubtedly, to the second floor of this _monstrosity_. 

“How different?” Donghun says.

He steps into the entrance, and turns to face Junhee. While walking backwards, he shoots Junhee a smirk, cocks his head to invite him inside. 

It’s almost as if Junhee could break something worth a billion won if he so much as breathes.

“Wine?” 

Donghun walks effortlessly over to the bar, back of his slides clacking against the wooden floor. Junhee simply watches him in slight horror. 

“Or, champagne?” Donghun muses, picking up a slim bottle from behind his bar and setting it down on the marble surface. “We are celebrating, here.” 

Hesitantly, Junhee makes his way over to join Donghun, ever so cautious that his unbranded sale rack sneakers might be marking up the floor. However, Donghun seems as if he could care less -- whipping out two flutes from behind the bar and setting them beside each other. He looks towards Junhee as if seeking validation in his decision. 

“What are we celebrating?” Junhee asks, feeling ever-so-slightly out of his depth. 

“Hmm,” Donghun hums, giggling as he takes the champagne into his hands. “You getting the role, obviously. I heard about it from my agent. It’ll probably get to the media tomorrow. Are you ready for all that attention?” 

“I’m… not sure…” 

As if he’s done this a thousand times before, Donghun unscrews the bottle and loosens the cork with a resounding pop, and an air of mist slowly drifting past the lip of the bottle. He pours both flutes effortlessly, and places it back down on the bar with a clatter. 

“Cheers!” He says, lifting his own glass up and downing it in one go. 

_ Ah, _ Junhee thinks. _ He’s drunk. _

Junhee lifts up his flute and takes a tentative sip. Donghun is already pouring himself another, bobbing his head as if he has an ongoing tune playing inside his mind constantly. 

“Donghun,” Junhee prompts. This only causes the other man to look up at him with wide eyes. “What am I actually doing here?” 

“Is celebration not a good enough cause?” 

“Donghun.” 

The other man sighs then, loud and deep, before setting down his full champagne glass. He places both of his hands on the marble, and clears his throat, eyes still aimed down towards the surface. 

“I wanted to apologise,” he mumbles. “For being a dick.”

Junhee stays silent.

“You know,” Donghun says dramatically, straightening up and placing his index finger right at the centre of Junhee’s chest. “I guess I saw your face and thought _ he must’ve had it easy. _ Because there were a thousand guys just like you, auditioning for the same role. And there wasn’t -- I could've never got a role like this after a few indie movies. I guess I judged you too quick. All because of this pretty face--” Donghun removes his finger, and makes a vague circle around Junhee’s features. 

At the end of his monologue, he then turns back to the bar and drinks the rest of his champagne in one go. 

“I didn’t have it easy,” Junhee says, almost disbelieving. “I had it pretty hard, actually, because I’m-- gay. I thought someone like you would understand.” 

“I do,” Donghun grunts, voice a pitch lower, the tipsiness finally hitting. “God, I realised, and I searched you up- up later, and I found it all out.”

“Even if I wasn’t…” Junhee continues. “It would still be hard. It’s hard for everyone. It just hurt-- hurt more because you’re an actor that I…” Donghun looks up towards him, and Junhee’s heart catches in his throat. “Really like. I really like all your movies, Donghun. I was looking forward to meeting you. So it hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Donghun laughs, bitter, at himself more than anyone. “I really am. I’m, really-- really, just a horrible person. And it was nothing about you other than the fact you were there. This is coming out so shitty. Fuck,” Donghun interrupts himself with another faint laugh. “You’re nice, Park Junhee. I'm shitty. If you’re working with me you should get used to it. I’m gonna be shitty to you again, and again, because I can’t help it-- and then you’ll get sick of me and promotions for the movie will end and you’ll leave, like everyone, and I’ll be all by myself in this big ass penthouse again.”

Junhee swallows thickly, and watches as Donghun pours himself another glass. 

“I really am sorry,” he repeats. “And I’m sorry I keep making it about myself. I’m not-- really sober, right now.”

“I know,” Junhee answers, finally, something tight and wound-up in the centre of his chest. “I get it. It’s okay.” 

Junhee sets down his glass, still half-full, on the bartop, and turns towards Donghun. The other man looks surprised, eyes wide, almost gleaming in the light from overhead. The alcohol has warmed up his cheeks, loosened his posture, allowed his mouth to drop open when Junhee faces him head-on. 

“We can try again. Take two.”

“What?”

“Hi,” Junhee says. “I’m Park Junhee. It’s nice to meet you. I’m going to be your second lead.”

Donghun giggles at that, incredulous. He looks almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. (Quite honestly, neither does Junhee, but his brain has shortwired a long time ago and he’s running off a redbull, sip of champagne and pure adrenaline.) 

“I’m Lee Donghun,” He extends a hand forward, and inclines his head, smile gracing his features. “The pleasure’s all mine.” 

━ 

Act Two 

“As we all know, the success of this movie is really important to all of the cast and team who’ve worked on it,” Junhee’s agent begins, clasping her hands together.

He shoots a glance over to Donghun, whose lips are pursed at the edge of a cup of coffee, and they exchange a raising of eyebrows. It’s almost definite that she’s about to announce something. 

“A lot of movies that do really well nowadays do well because the actors in it have specifically piqued the general public’s interest. While I’m sure you two are interesting characters, I have something more specific in mind.” 

Donghun mouths an “Oh no.” to Junhee over the table, complete with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“The main essence of this story is the relationship between both your characters. Whilst you both have charisma on and off screen, we wanted to push this element more--”

“Basically,” Donghun’s agent interrupts. “We want you to pretend to date.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“_ What _?” Junhee yells.

“For publicity,” Donghun’s agent informs them. “Actually, if you look online, there’s already a lot of speculation about you two. All you have to do is confirm it.”

“How do we do that?” Donghun asks.

Junhee looks towards him, in shock.

“You can’t seriously be considering this.”

Donghun just shrugs, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“There’s a music festival soon. Lots of paparazzi. Just go together, catch their eye by doing some couple-y things. I guarantee this’ll make your schedules together get a lot more attention.” 

Dating Donghun. _ Lee Donghun _. Or at least pretending to, just for the camera. Donghun seems relatively unaffected by the idea, which is a shocker -- because as much as Donghun has expressed his liking for Junhee’s face, he’s also expressed a general disliking of everything else about him. Junhee swears Donghun might’ve said that exact thing to his face, once. 

“I’ve emailed you your tickets,” Junhee’s agent tells them. “The festival’s at 6pm tomorrow. Just make sure you dress nicely, wear masks, and try to act like you’re in love. We’ll do the rest.” 

“Okay,” Donghun says. “Is that it?” 

“Yep,” his agent affirms. “Meeting concluded.” 

He stands, chugs the last of his coffee, and throws his cardboard cup in the nearest bin. Junhee watches him dig his hands into his pockets and leave the room in slight shock, before he springs to his feet and follows closely behind. 

“Donghun!” He calls, just after the door swings shut behind them. He runs to catch up with the other man a couple of paces ahead, and grabs him by the shoulder. 

Donghun turns to face him, pulling down his mask from his mouth.

“What?” He asks. “Do you want to start already? I know I’m irresistible, but we’ve just finished reshoots, and I’m greasy and I’ve seen too much of your face these past few months, can I at least shower before--” 

“No, Donghun, listen--” Junhee interrupts. “Are you being serious? You actually want to do this? Pretend to be together in front of the, the entire fucking world?” 

Donghun smiles at Junhee, reaches forward to ruffle his hair. 

“It’ll be good for both of our careers in the long run, trust me,” Donghun chuckles. “Besides, I’ve already seen you naked. How much more traumatised can I get?” 

With that, he pats Junhee’s shoulder, and salutes with one hand. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

He turns around, pulling his mask back up to obscure his features, and carries on walking down the long corridor. Junhee watches him go, head bowed, rendered entirely speechless. 

━ 

At about 5pm, Junhee thinks he’s the victim of an attempted break in. 

There’s pounding on the door, undoubtedly resounding through the entire building, accompanied by muffled yelling. Despite the fact that the doorbell sits just a little to the left, and it’s general etiquette not to break someone’s door down the first time you visit, Junhee hesitantly walks over and unlocks it-- allowing the door to swing open, almost knocking over his guest. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Donghun remarks, staring at the door he so narrowly avoided with eyes ready to fight. 

“Maybe,” Junhee says, digging his hands into his hair, fingers scraping against his scalp. 

Donghun looks good. At this point, Junhee is relatively used to the fact that the other man will outdress him no matter what the occasion. However, today especially, Junhee is taken a little aback by the effort Donghun has put into his outfit -- graphic tee, ripped jeans, combat boots, styled hair, and the dusting of makeup over his features make him almost glow in the gentle light overhead. A leather jacket is draped over one shoulder like a chef’s towel, and with one hand, Donghun holds a tray with two cups of coffee. 

“I brought coffee,” Donghun announces, as if it isn’t glaringly obvious. He steps forward, and sets it down on the one uncluttered space of Junhee’s coffee table. “It’s gonna be a long day, Junnie.” 

“...Thanks,” Junhee says, and takes the hot cup into his hands. 

“I thought you’d be dressed by now,” Donghun says. “We’re leaving in less than an hour.” 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Junhee laughs. “Not all of us are multi-millionaires with walk-in wardrobes.” 

“I’ll help you pick,” Donghun offers, watching Junhee as he takes a sip of his coffee and all his features scrunch up. “Too strong?” He asks. 

“Mmm,” Junhee giggles. “I don’t really like coffee that much to begin with.” 

Donghun stares at him beadily for a moment, as if registering his words before he responds.

“Right. Why are you drinking it then?” He takes the cup out of Junhee’s hands, and sets it back in it’s holder while Junhee watches. “Show me your closet. I’ll dress you.” 

They head into Junhee’s bedroom, Donghun’s coffee clutched in hand, mask lowered to cup his cheeks. He looks _ endearing, _ is probably the only way Junhee could find to describe it. Donghun is older than him, but he somehow manages to be effortlessly adorable just by existing.

The room is a mess, and Donghun makes his distaste clear in a loud wince as they enter. A double bed is pressed into one corner, plain white sheets all scrunched at the base of the bed, an assortment of variously coloured jeans and striped shirts is thrown onto the bed. His closet is swung open, revealing several embarrassing articles of clothing and a carpet of shoes that hasn’t been touched in a few months, Junhee’s favoured option being his (now dirty) discount sneakers. 

He turns to Donghun for his approval, but all the other man can do is sip at his coffee and let his eyes nervously scan the room.

“OK,” Junhee laughs. “We get it. I’m a disaster. You could at least make a comment.” 

Donghun sets down his cup of coffee on the side table, and lets himself sink into the mattress. A couple moments of scanning the room pass before he opens his mouth again. 

“You’re a disaster.”

“Thanks,” Junhee giggles, and looks back towards his closet. “Can you help me pick something now? I’m stuck here.”

“How am I supposed to help you pick something… when all your clothes look exactly the same?” 

There’s a clattering of hangers, and Junhee looks back to see Donghun filing through all the clothes he has laying on his bed, mouthing to himself. 

“Stripes, stripes, stripes,” he whispers, voice soft, counting off each shirt as he goes. “Oh, look. This one’s plaid.” He glances towards Junhee, smirk on his lips. “You’re so lame.” 

“I’m poor, that’s what I am,” Junhee replies, flopping down next to his pile of clothes on his bed. Donghun tsks at him as he continues flipping through shirts, and Junhee watches him from his new sideways angle. 

Donghun rises to his feet, and places one striped shirt on the side, complete with a pair of black jeans and Junhee’s most expensive pair of shoes. He lines them up, just to one side, draped over the bed frame, and looks towards the other man expectantly. 

“There, it wasn’t that hard, was it?” Donghun nudges Junhee, and he only sighs heavily in response, throwing a hand over his head. “Come on, get changed. Then I’ll drive us there.”

After many protests, a mask slipped over his features, and a gas stop, they arrive at the venue. It’s not large, but not cosy either. Night is already falling, the sky slipping into a pale blue as they arrive amongst the large crowd of people. They’re nearer to the back, but Junhee can see the screen shining in the distance, over the hundreds of heads in front of him. There are a couple large screens to either side of the main stage, so the audience can always see what’s happening.

He glances towards Donghun. His hair, neatly set earlier, is now slightly ruffled. He bounces a water bottle between both his hands, and whistles as he looks around the crowd for a place to stand.

“This is fine, isn’t it?” Junhee asks.

Donghun turns to him, and his features split into a smile. He stops juggling the water bottle, and says something. The crowd is too loud to hear him, and Junhee simply raises a finger to his ear and, tapping at it, mouths I can’t hear you. 

Rolling his eyes, Donghun steps closer to Junhee, so they’re less than inches apart. He places a warm hand on the small of Junhee’s back, and pulls him closer over his shoulder, so that his lips graze the shell of Junhee’s ear.

“We should give everyone a better view of us, yeah?” He mumbles, voice low and soft. 

“Mm,” Junhee hums, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to focus on the feeling of Donghun’s very large, very warm hand on his back, or the feeling of his lips just a little away from his ear.

It’s acting. Just acting.

He lifts his hand, lets it run up Donghun’s side and onto his shoulder. 

“Where were you thinking?” Junhee breathes, shallow. 

Donghun laughs then, deep and bassy, loud from Junhee being so close. 

“Just over there,” he says, cocking his head, and pulls away a little. His eyes almost sparkle in the dim light of the venue. 

Their hands stay linked as Donghun pulls him along to the other side of the stage. The crowds of people seem to not recognise them, or at least, too high to. The only stares they get are aimed towards Donghun for elbowing his way through crowds to get them to a small area where no-one is standing, just at the cusp of multiple large groups of people.

The air is less thick there, and Junhee feels like he can breathe. Donghun untangles their fingers, and hooks an arm around his shoulder. 

“Have you been to something like this before?” 

“No.”

“So I’m your first time?” He smirks.

“Unfortunately,” Junhee says, shrugging out of his grip. 

Just as he says so, he can hear the boom of speakers as the MC takes the stage. It’s a woman in neon festival clothes, who urges the crowd to cheer every time she says a sentence. Junhee doesn’t really understand it, the people jumping and yelling when the show hasn’t even started. Though, Donghun does look like he’s having some fun, whooping and cheering when prompted.

The first act takes the stage, a group of men dressed in all black with glittering accessories, and as the bass starts pounding through the speakers, the crowd seems to come alive more than before. 

Even beside him, Donghun is bouncing around, mouthing the words to the song, doing dramatic facial expressions in Junhee’s direction. The crowd is deafening, but the bass is louder, the vocals coming through the speakers like shouts. It’s strangely adrenaline inducing, and Junhee finds himself bobbing his head along before long. 

The next act comes, and the next, and the songs ease into ones that Junhee knows, or at least can pretend like he does. The riffs all sound vaguely familiar, vocals the same edge of pop, and he joins in bouncing along and mouthing the lyrics he thinks he knows. 

“Dance, Junnie,” Donghun shouts, taking his hands and turning Junhee towards him.

He seems strangely ecstatic, cheeks blushed pink, skin glowing with perspiration. He’s using his water bottle as a fake microphone, mouthing along lyrics that surely aren’t right. Junhee plays along, jumping with him, yelling lyrics, moving his body to the beat. Donghun whoops him, cheers, claps along to Junhee, attention entirely focused on him. He had stopped dancing professionally a long time ago, but even an audience of one person was enough for the feelings to come back. 

The more he moves, the more excited Donghun seems. He’s clapping along, eyes entirely focused on Junhee throughout the rest of the songs. Something, just-- something, seems to course through Junhee’s veins, loud and energetic, forcing him to dance, to move, to yell along. It might be the music, it might be the attention Donghun is giving his dancing, it might just be after the months of careful acting the ability to scream again. 

People around them cheer too, vaguely in Junhee’s direction, but Donghun is closer to him. So close. If they took a step together, there could be no space in between them.

Donghun does, moves closer, reaches out with a hand and places it on the back of Junhee’s neck. Electricity seems to crackle through the place where his hand is touching, and Junhee inhales shakily before he allows himself to be pulled into Donghun. 

They’re moving together, Donghun’s hand on the back of his neck, pulling him forwards so their foreheads are touching. Donghun’s eyes are on him, he can feel the fan of Donghun’s breath, the sweat on his forehead, the burning heat of his hands, how close their bodies are.

“Kiss me,” Donghun breathes, pressing into Junhee, eyes still on his.

“What?” 

“We’re giving them a show, right? Kiss me.” 

It’s not real. It’s not real.

Junhee closes his eyes and tries his hardest to pretend like he’s on set again. 

He leans forward and kisses Donghun, wraps both his arms around the older man’s waist. Donghun lifts his hands to cup both Junhee’s cheeks, and pull him in further. It’s sweaty and kind of disgusting, but the adrenaline is racing through him, and he lets himself be kissed, he lets Donghun drag it out as long as possible, teasing, playing with him. 

It’s just acting. It’s just acting. None of it’s real. Not Donghun’s warm breath at his jaw, now, or the music playing through the speakers, or the feeling that he has building right in the centre of his chest. 

  


The car ride home passes in relative silence.

Junhee just stares at his hands, head feeling heavy and as if someone had hit him over it with a baseball bat. Donghun simply continues driving, street lights flashing overhead as he pulls onto Junhee’s street. He parks on the road outside, pulling the gear back, and looks towards the other man.

Donghun leans back into his seat, and turns his head to the side to face Junhee.

“Did you have fun?” He asks. 

A part of Junhee wants him to lie, because it’s almost embarrassing how much fun he did have. The better part of him wants to tell the truth.

“Yeah,” he says, and looks towards Donghun. “A lot of fun.”

A smile makes its way across Donghun’s features, tugs lines into place at the corners of his eyes. 

“Good.” 

Junhee unbuckles his seatbelt with shaking hands, trying to ignore Donghun’s eyes on him. Just as he places his hand on the handle, Donghun sets his hand down on Junhee’s thigh.Even just that makes something curl at the pit of Junhee’s stomach. 

“I had fun too,” he says. “I don’t usually kiss on the first date, but you’re my exception.”

Junhee just exhales loudly, and opens the car door onto the pavement. He steps out, and as he leans down to shut it, he mumbles a _ thanks again _. 

Donghun only raises a hand in greeting, and Junhee turns to head towards the door of his complex. He doesn’t look back.

━ 

“Hyung! Hyung!” 

Screams come from right beside him, and as Junhee opens his eyes he can see the two smiling figures of his best friends. 

“When.. did I let you in…” 

“You didn’t!” Yuchan exclaims, way too excited. “You left your door unlocked!” 

“Okay,” Junhee croaks, lifting a hand to his forehead. “Why are you yelling?” 

“Because of this,” Byeongkwan announces, dramatic, presenting Junhee a screen on full-brightness that’s almost blinding. 

After a few bleary blinks, and the dragging of the brightness tab all the way down, Junhee can finally see the blurry outline of an article. He reaches for his glasses across the side table, and once they are finally rested on his nose, he can read the title. 

He sits up immediately, and rubs both his eyes to make sure he’s reading it correctly. Even after a few moments of staring, it still hasn’t set in -- so Byeongkwan snatches the phone out his hand, and brings it again to his face. 

“Here, I’ll read it for you. Lee Donghun seen at music festival kissing movie partner Park Junhee,” Byeongkwan says, matter-of-factly, yet unable to keep the smirk out of his face. “And look at this cute picture of you and Donghun eating each other’s faces.” 

Right. Of course. That’s why they were there. To get the articles written about them. He should’ve expected it, but it was an entirely different level of weird to see him and Donghun kissing at the festival underneath an article with over two thousand clicks. 

“Say something, hyung!” Byeongkwan whines, grabbing his shoulder and rocking him backwards and forwards. 

“I-- don’t know what to say,” he says, honestly. 

“You didn’t even tell us. You could’ve phoned, or texted, said something-- _ hey, guys, me and Donghun went on a date and he kissed me, _” Byeongkwan rants. “We had to find out from an article. If it was a secret, why did you kiss in public? Surely you expected this?” 

Junhee opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words. 

“Hmm,” Yuchan hums, turning the phone sideways. “They got some good angles too.”

“Stop being a weirdo,” Byeongkwan hisses, and takes the phone off of him. He turns back to Junhee expectantly. “So?” 

Junhee glances between the both of them and their eager eyes. 

“He asked me to the festival,” Junhee says, softly. “And one thing led to another. I was really tired after I came back, so I just-- went to sleep. Sorry. Don’t be mad.”

They both look at each other for a second, as if communicating telepathically, before turning back to Junhee. There’s a beat of silence before the two of them fling themselves onto Junhee, all a bundle of arms and skin and laughter, and Junhee wraps his arms around their shoulders, guilt pooling in his stomach. 

“We could never be mad at you,” Byeongkwan says, patting Junhee’s back. 

They pull apart, and both their faces are bright with smiles. Junhee attempts to replicate it, and he hopes his acting resume is paying off. 

“You’re going abroad for your press tour, right?” Yuchan asks. Junhee just nods. “It’s going to be like a honeymoon, I’m so excited for you!” 

The press tour. Shit. Junhee had forgotten about that one. 

Just weeks of being abroad with Donghun, alone, with interviews and invasive questions about their relationship and hotel rooms and dates and being together. There would be their agents, but also people who had no idea the whole thing was a facade.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Byeongkwan comments. 

Junhee readjusts himself to reality, and blinks emptily at Byeongkwan.

“Ha, just nervous. It’s all really new.” 

Yuchan smiles, and reaches out to grab his shoulder. 

“I’m happy for you, hyung. Seriously.” 

Junhee lets a weak smile across his face. 

“Thanks, guys.”

━

“Good morning!” Donghun declares, entering the room with a flourish and shutting the door behind him with a smile. 

The make up artists look towards him, disgruntled and tired, as he arrives in his seat about ten minutes late, placing down the cupholder beside him, in the space between his and Junhee’s seat. Junhee can’t turn his head, currently having his hair pinned back in three different places by his stylist, but he stares at Donghun in the mirror.

While Junhee is arguably dressed his worst, in a half-torn, half faded graphic t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants, Donghun is again wearing slacks and a cardigan with no shirt underneath, concealer lightly dotted underneath his eye bags, only visible because of the harsh lighting meant to replicate filming conditions. 

“I know you don’t like coffee, so I got you a frappuccino. Is strawberry okay?” Donghun asks, loosening his coffee out of the cup holder.

Junhee laughs a little, taken aback.

“It’s my favourite,” he says. “Thanks.”

Donghun smiles towards him. His eyes first go up towards Junhee’s hairline, where golden clips are holding his styled hair in place. They fall to his eyes, and the makeup feels heavier at the corners of his eyes under Donghun’s scrutiny. His eyes finally fall to Junhee’s shirt, where he allows a chuckle to escape him. 

“Scarlet Violation,” he reads. 

“Shut up,” Junhee says, holding back a grin. “It was highschool.” 

“Guitarist and lead vocalist,” Donghun continues. “Junhee Park. Wow.” He looks up, towards the mirror, and meets Junhee’s eyes. “I didn’t know you sang.” 

“You don’t know a lot about me,” Junhee teases, sticking out his tongue. 

“Your dancing is one of them,” Donghun says. “You surprised me at the festival, you know. It almost looked like you actually knew what you were doing.”

“I wanted to be an idol, for a while,” His make up artist comes around front to touch up his eyeshadow, and Junhee in turn shuts his eyes. “Then I realised it wasn’t really for me. Not everyone becomes Rain.” 

“I know,” Donghun laughs. Junhee can hear the squeak as he leans back in his chair, presumably to allow the makeup artist to do his job. “I wanted to be a singer. But I did some cameos, and I guess I liked having an opinion on what I’m allowed to do more.” 

Junhee laughs at that, and his makeup artist tells him to stay still. The room then falls into comfortable silence, the two men having their faces and hair touched up, final adjustments to their hair being put in place.

“Good morning, good morning,” A voice comes, and Junhee sees the reflection of his agent in his mirror. “How are we doing?” 

There’s no response, from either him or Donghun, and so his agent continues on.

“Right. So we’re going to take you both into a separate room with a lot of cameras and the interviewers will come in one-by-one to ask you questions. I’ll be there with you, to make sure they’re not too intrusive. Remember -- just be natural. You love each other, and the world loves you. You’ll be fine.”

Donghun catches Junhee’s eye in the mirror, and winks. 

Yet, despite Junhee’s initial worries, the interviews go smoothly. The room they sit in has blinds drawn, which allow hazy sunlight to come in slashes, as well as a dim light overhead. Junhee and Donghun sit beside each other, two cushioned chairs, each with a small side table where their respective drinks sit. The interviewer, or interviewers, come and sit in a plastic chair opposite them, with a microphone and a notepad or laptop to write down whatever Donghun and Junhee are saying.

He’s afraid they might get some intrusive or downright offensive questions, which they do -- starting with an interviewer who asks who the woman is in the relationship -- but while Junhee stutters and stumbles, Donghun handles them with impeccable grace, hand placed over Junhee’s, squeezing softly whenever he answers a question. It’s his first proper press round, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t anxious. 

“You’re doing so well,” Donghun whispers to him, as the first interviewer is leaving. 

Junhee looks down at their hands, together, resting on the arm of his chair. He tightens his fingers around Donghun, and looks back up to meet his eyes. 

“Thanks,” he says. “You too.”

A lot of the interviewers make remarks on their matching clothing, their jewellery, the date they had at the music festival the week prior. They both smile and laugh, hands together or not, Donghun glancing over at Junhee with that damned expression every time he answers a question.

“Would you say your relationship impacted how well you were able to play your roles in the film?” An interviewer asks. 

“I wouldn’t say so,” Donghun says, nodding. “While we are both gay, and that helps us to understand our own character’s inner monologue and their struggles, our relationship as people is entirely separate from our characters.”

“Though,” Junhee adds. “It is nicer to kiss someone you actually want to kiss.” 

The interviewer laughs, and takes down a few notes. 

“Okay, my last question -- finally, I know,” he chuckles, and pushes his glasses up with his index finger and thumb, the way Donghun does. Both Junhee and Donghun laugh courteously. “Junhee -- you said earlier that Donghun was someone who helped you enter the industry as an openly gay actor. Was there any conflict about working with someone you admired so much on this film?”

Junhee laughs, and scratches at the back of his head. In his peripheral vision, he can see Donghun looking at him like that, his eyes twinkling with just a hint of mischief. 

“It made me nervous, sure. I didn’t know he was working on the film until I showed up for the screen test. I think we hit it off naturally. There are just… people you connect with,” Junhee says, voice wavering, looking towards Donghun. A beep of something unidentifiable flashes across Donghun’s face, teeth biting at his bottom lip. 

He remembers their first proper encounter -- the room and the phone call and Donghun’s words that made him cry when he went back to his apartment after the screen test. Donghun had apologised, clearly, but it didn’t change the fact that it had happened. 

“Actually,” Donghun says, glancing towards Junhee a final time before he looks towards the interviewer. “The first time we met, I was -- really mean. I had a bad day, and Junhee is very...” Donghun’s eyes shift towards Junhee before focusing on the interviewer with a cock of his head. “Nice. He's really sweet, and he was there. So I took it out on him.” 

Junhee swallows thickly. Donghun’s words are tiptoeing the line between fake and real, and Junhee doesn’t know exactly where they’ll end up laying. 

“I still feel bad about it. I always had a good impression of him -- even when we first met, and he was practically shaking with how nervous he was,” Donghun’s face splits into a grin. “I really admired him, even past my bitterness, and I thought he was an amazing actor. Even just meeting him for half a second, you can tell how--” Donghun pauses, and mulls over his words for a second. A small chuckle leaves his throat then. “I don’t know, just sweet, he is. I expected someone else, you know when actors get their first big callback they’re kind of… big-headed… but he wasn’t, at all. And after I apologised to him -- what did you say, babe?” 

Junhee takes a second to realise Donghun is speaking to him, only prompted by the raising of his eyebrows and soft smile with just the faint glimpse of teeth peeking out between his lips. 

“I said,” Junhee says, trying to ignore how dry his mouth feels. “We’re actors. So we can have a take two. We can start over.” 

“I think, that’s when I realised,” Donghun says, and reaches out for Junhee’s hand. “That he was different.”

Junhee’s heart is pounding against his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so choked up, but Donghun’s hand squeezes around his, and a smaller, more genuine smile tugs at his features. This fake dating thing doesn’t feel very fake, at all. 

“Aww,” the interviewer coos. “You two really are perfect for each other.”

Only the thumbs-up that they get from Junhee’s agent, standing behind the interviewer, makes the situation feel less real.

“Thank you,” they both say in unison, Junhee attempting not to stutter over his words.

Donghun is confident, all glowing skin and shiny jewellery and perfect hair and an empty cup of coffee. Junhee’s frappe has turned to slush, and he has brushed his hair out of his eyes one too many times, corrected the way he’s answered a question far too often. 

A blush creeps up on Junhee’s cheeks at the interviewer’s words. _ We must be convincing. _

Donghun’s agent peers her head enters the room, giving a quick bow to the leaving interviewer. Both Junhee and Donghun watch her as she carefully shuts the door behind her. 

“Well done!” She whisper-shouts, both thumbs up, massive smile across her face. She approaches the two of them, and wraps her arms around their shoulders, pulling them closer to her. “It was so convincing, like you’re actually dating!” 

Junhee feels almost suffocated under her grip and with the overwhelming smell of her perfume, but she lets go fairly quickly, taking a step back to look at the two of them. The smile still doesn’t leave her features, and Junhee’s agent joins her side, flicking through papers on the clipboard in her hands. Junhee vaguely recognises the timetable as their schedule. 

“Okay, so. You’re going on a late-night show tomorrow, it’s more of a variety-style. They’ll probably play some games with you, ask you some questions. Very standard stuff. You did a good job today, guys.” 

After thanking the two women, Junhee begins to clear up their coffee cups and phones and empty wrappers of anything else he left lying around. While he does this, Donghun waits by the entrance, crushed coffee cup in hand, looking at his phone.

“Junnie,” he calls, looking back over to the other man.

Junhee looks towards Donghun, and sees that he has his phone raised slightly above his face, obviously in a selfie position.

“A selfie?” Junhee says, disbelieving, making his way over beside Donghun. “Really?”

“Really,” Donghun affirms, still smiling for the camera, pulling his phone down so it’s more level with his face. “How believable is it that we’re out as a couple but we have no selfies.” 

Junhee leans in towards him, touches the sides of their heads together. Donghun does the same, pouting his lips, while Junhee closes his eyes and smiles. They stay like that for a minute, feeling oddly intimate -- Junhee just listening silently to Donghun’s breathing and the shuffling of his jacket sleeve as he moves the phone around. 

“Okay,” Donghun says, pulling away from Junhee. “Done.” 

Junhee opens his eyes, and Donghun is standing directly in front of him. His makeup is running a little from the heat, even with the ceiling fan whirring overhead. His contacts make his eyes a shade lighter than they usually are, hazel rather than perfectly brown. 

_ I like your normal eyes more, _ Junhee wants to say, but he holds himself back, rather just giving Donghun a stiff smile.

“We should practice for the questions,” Donghun says. “We don’t want to be caught out.” 

“I know it all already,” Junhee replies, pushing past Donghun and turning around to open the door backwards. “Shooting and reshooting with you everyday for three months basically makes us husbands.” 

He walks backwards out of the door, junk from earlier still in his hands. Donghun follows slowly behind, with a cocked eyebrow and smirk playing across his face.

“Okay, what’s my favourite colour?” 

Junhee has to stop where he’s standing to think it over. Donghun looks at him, barely impressed, eyebrows still raised.

“Green?” Junhee answers, hesitant.

He knows it’s the wrong answer as soon as he says it, because Donghun is rolling his eyes, laughing and walking away from him.

“Blue?” He yells after him. 

Donghun turns around, wide grin on his face.

“Eight,” he shouts back. “My place.” 

━

“Purple,” Junhee answers, confident, shooting a smile towards Donghun before he turns towards the MC. 

The MC, a woman a little older than them, peers forward to check his answer off his board. She nods, clearly content with the answer, before turning to Donghun.

“And Donghun, the real answer is…” 

Donghun flips his board around, already looking towards her with a smile. The board reads purple in bold lettering, miraculously the same as Junhee’s one-hundred perfect not pre-planned answer. The MC looks suspiciously at both the boards, mouth wide open, then at the camera crew to emphasise her surprise. 

“You guys are almost too good at this,” she remarks. “You didn’t practice, did you?”

“No, no, no--” Junhee protests, half laughing, shaking his hand towards the camera.

“It seems like he’s lying, doesn’t it?” The MC asks the ‘audience’, mock-earnest. “Doesn’t it seem like they practised, everyone?” 

“No, no, listen--” Junhee interjects, trying not to laugh. “I know his favourite colour is purple, because I went shopping with him and he made me buy a 79,000 won purple sweater because he liked the colour.” 

The MC’s eyes widen in shock, and she looks towards Donghun -- who’s sitting on her other side, whiteboard in his lap, water bottle in hand, cheeks full of water. He looks a little like a chipmunk. Yet, he widens his eyes threateningly at Junhee, and makes a hand gesture in his direction. 

“Hey--” he fake-shouts. “You didn’t even end up paying for it. I just asked.” 

“79,000won,” The MC repeats, shocked, pretending to be unsettled as she shuffles in her seat, glancing down towards her cue cards. 

They laugh for a little while longer, before the MC cuts them off with her next question.

“Okay, next-- this one would be a little awkward, maybe, to practice with each other,” The MC reveals, looking between Donghun and Junhee. “So, Junhee, what is the thing you love the most about Donghun? And Donghun, what do you think Junhee’s answer will be? Write them down on your boards.”

Junhee freezes for a second, still looking over at Donghun -- who’s already furiously scribbling down an answer. _ What he loves the most. _

The MC was right. They didn’t practice this one, and in all honesty-- Junhee has no clue what to answer with. Maybe he should say something simple, and cheesy. Something that’d be guaranteed to get an aw out of the audience. It didn’t have to be truthful, after all.

Or, he could be honest. Friends can have favourite things about each other, right? It makes it more believable that way, rather than if he were to make something up on the spot. 

So, he looks at Donghun and _ thinks _. Thinks about his walk in closet and endless supply of wine, thinks about his porcelain bathtub and how he cried when they watched The Notebook together. He thinks about how Donghun held him, behind the scenes of the shoot, when he found out his dog had died. He thinks about how Donghun showed up, officially, in his life six months ago -- and how he’s somehow carved a massive hole of out it for himself, right in the centre. Thinks about how he had always sort of been there.

“Junhee, do you have an answer?” The MC asks, shocking Junhee back to reality. 

“Um,” Junhee glances down at his board, no closer to his answer than he was when he first started thinking. 

He scribbles down _ hands _, and decides to leave it at that. If nothing else, Donghun did have a really nice pair of hands. He, objectively, as Donghun’s fake-boyfriend, kind-of friend and partner in the newest mainstream gay romcom could appreciate that. 

“Okay, and… time!” The MC declares, and looks towards Junhee. “What did you put?” 

He reveals his board, and the noise that escapes Donghun surely can’t be human -- torn between a giggle and a cackle. Junhee only smiles when the MC asks for his answer. 

Donghun flips around his board and reveals _ eyes _. The MC seems surprised, but somehow energised at the fact she’d managed to defeat them. 

“Okay, and the opposite way around. Donghun, the thing you love most about Junhee. Junhee, what you think he’s going to say.” 

Junhee pauses, pen hovering above his board. _ Face _, he decides to write after much deliberation. 

“Time!” The MC yells, and gestures towards Donghun. “Reveal your answer.” 

Donghun flips his board. _ Kind_, it reads. The MC coos at him, and turns towards Junhee -- obviously expecting something of a similar variety.

Junhee feels like crying and laughing at the same time, suddenly self-conscious of his own answer. The MC practically has to pry it off of him, and pretends to be offended on Donghun’s behalf when she turns it around. 

“_Face_,” she gasps. “You really think he’s that shallow?” 

“No, no, no--” Junhee begins to protest, looking towards Donghun, but the older man’s face is only split into an easygoing smile. 

“Donghun, do you have an anecdote about your answer?” The MC interrupts.

“About Junhee being kind?” He says softly, looking back towards Junhee. “I don’t know. He forgives very easily, he’s very understanding. That’s what made me fall in love with him.” 

It feels as if someone has reached into Junhee’s chest, and is winding a piece of string tighter and tighter around his heart. The way Donghun is looking at him, gentle, almost makes Junhee snap, because _ fuck, Lee Donghun is a really, really good actor _. 

_ This is all fake. All of it. There’s nothing to get emotional about, _ Junhee reassures himself. _ They’re both just playing a role. _

“I bet Junhee feels bad about his answer, now,” The MC jokes, and Junhee just smiles weakly. 

  


The rest of their schedules in Korea pass with much of the same. The questions are mostly simple and easy to answer, rarely offensive if at all, and Junhee and Donghun’s well-rehearsed fake history of their first date to their most recent one doesn’t crack under the pressure. It feels like routine, something Junhee can settle into, meeting Donghun every morning and evening and even at nights, sometimes, with tubs of ice cream, rehearsing their stories. 

It’s only when they fly out to their first and only Japanese show, that the host seems remarkably less pleased to have them there -- rather to make a spectacle out of them. The set seems fine, a sofa set to one side and the host behind the desk. There’s no audience on set, thankfully, just the camera crew and some backdrops to make it seem more comfortable as a late-night show. The show airs live, so Donghun and Junhee have to keep it engaging. 

The welcome is perfectly normal, and so are the introductory questions about the film. Junhee handles them, reciting them by heart from how often he has had to do it. He understands basic Japanese, and so does Donghun, but the translator sits beside them for an easier conversation. 

“Something that has caused a lot of controversy about your movie is the LGBT theme,” the host says. “And the rating of the movie. Many say it’s not appropriate for children. What’s your response to that?” 

“I don’t see why an innocent romantic comedy has to be highly rated just because it’s about two men--” Donghun begins, but he’s promptly interrupted.

“Some critics say that it'll influence the younger generations to become LGBT. What do you think about that?” 

“No,” Donghun answers, an edge to his voice at being cut off. “Being gay isn’t a choice. That’s part of the film’s message.”

Junhee opens his mouth to speak, but before a word can leave his mouth, he’s already been interrupted by the host.

“Don’t you believe that films like yours normalise being gay?” 

“Yes,” Donghun says, tone almost disbelieving. “That’s-- also why this movie is important. To show children at that age, and adults too,” (Junhee can almost hear the ‘like you’ leave Donghun’s mouth, but it doesn’t). “That being gay is normal.” 

“Many people believe it’s unnatural,” the host comments. 

“The--”

“After all,” the host laughs, turning back to the camera crew and then to Donghun. “The parts don’t exactly fit, do they?” 

Junhee watches Donghun clench and unclench his jaw, watches his hand curl into a fist. He places a hand on Donghun’s thigh, hoping to be inconspicuous, squeezing the lightest amount to get the tension to release from Donghun’s body.

“One of you has to be the woman,” the host continues, pushing up his glasses. “Right? That’s how relationships work.” 

“No, it’s not--” Donghun hisses. “Both of us are men. That’s why we’re gay.” 

“But someone has to be the woman sometimes, right? You know what I’m getting at?” The host attempts to joke, but Donghun doesn’t grace him with a reply.

  
  


Backstage, in between breaks, Donghun is fuming.

“I’m not going back out there,” he says to his agent, pointing furiously at the door. “I’m not speaking to that fucking asshole again.” 

“Calm down,” his agent tries. “You have to go back out and do the last greeting.”

“Why did you even send me here?” Donghun snaps. “You knew he was like this, right? This all some public pity stunt, just so we’ll go viral for being the poor gays attacked by this motherfucker.” 

Junhee watches the two of them from the stool by his dressing table. The place still smells of hairspray and makeup and perfume, but the previously warm atmosphere from when they were getting ready has disappeared and is now replaced by the icicles Donghun seems to create with the words he spits in his agent’s direction.

They stay in silence for a few moments, Donghun physically trembling. Junhee has never wanted to wrap someone up in a hug so badly. 

“You can’t force me back out there,” Donghun says. “Make up an excuse.” 

Donghun’s agent leaves, evidently haven given up on her mission to convince Donghun back outside. She doesn’t even bother to ask Junhee, just leaving quietly and letting the door locks click shut behind her.

There’s a moment of silence. Donghun stands in the centre of the room, breathing shakily, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“You okay?” Junhee asks, trying to make himself sound more confident than he actually is.

Donghun’s face parts into a sour grin. 

“I haven’t had to deal with someone like that in so long,” he whispers. “I forgot how embarrassing it is to-- to have to justify your existence to somebody.” 

Junhee takes it as his cue to stand up, and face Donghun head on. The older man’s eyes are open now, but his eyelids droopy, eyebrows straight, slightly furrowed, looking more upset than Donghun has ever seen him. 

“You did a good job,” Junhee says, and reaches out to touch his shoulders. “Old men just suck.” 

Donghun laughs a little at that, shaking his head.

“I don’t know why I’m so angry.” 

“I get it,” Junhee affirms. “He was frustrating.” 

“But you’re not angry,” Donghun says, putting his hands on Junhee’s waist. (Junhee ignores, again, how big Donghun’s hands feel against him, how burning-hot they feel even through the material of his shirt.) “I think you’re just too good.”

“Too good?”

“For me,” Donghun laughs. “For this show. For this... world, I don't know.”

_ Too good for this world, _ Junhee’s mind replays. _ Okay. Okay. Fuck. _

“No-one’s around,” Junhee says, defensive, ignoring the lump in his throat.. “You don’t have to be all sappy.” 

Donghun just carries on looking sadly towards the floor, bottom lip quivering as if he’s about to cry.

So Junhee pulls him closer, stumbling, into a hug. It’s warm, a little sweaty, and Junhee can feel some of his makeup rub off against Donghun’s cheek, but it’s equal parts nice. He doesn’t think there’s another word to describe it-- how Donghun wrapped completely around him, completely genuine and open and sort of sad -- makes him feel. 

“I’ve got you,” Junhee mumbles, patting Donghun’s back. “It’s okay.”

━ 

Junhee tries his left side. 

Then his right side.

Then he tries laying on his back -- where he’s staring up at the ceiling, the clean cut white paint complete with white panelling giving way to no distraction for Junhee to avoid sleeping. 

Still, his mind is racing. 

It’s been a while since he’s been alone at this time. Usually he has varying company, from Byeongkwan and Chan to Donghun, all of which come over and annoy him into the late hours of the night, until all he can do is pass out after they’ve left.

Today, Byeongkwan is practising late. Chan is out on a date with some guy he met on some dating app.

And Donghun, of course, is at one of his schedules that Junhee didn’t need to attend, just a solo interview with some press. They’ve only been back from Japan one day, he only hasn’t seen Donghun for a day -- but it feels like he hasn’t seen him in years. They parted ways this morning, Donghun paying for Junhee’s muffin and strawberry milk with sticking out his tongue, and a wave as he left in his agent’s car. 

Japan was fun. Maybe if they had more time to do things, they could’ve gone to that udon place down the street from their hotel. Or they could’ve gone sightseeing. Maybe they could’ve seen the new film that Channie had been begging him to watch for weeks now. 

Even if they did nothing, just being with Donghun was fun. It’s not like either of them talk that much to begin with -- but being beside him, on their phones in the same bed, watching the same Japanese game show that they don’t understand in silence, feels nice. Even past Donghun’s witty comments and the clips they posted on their instagram stories, in the quiet of their shared room with the window overlooking the city. 

Junhee thought it’d be scary. To be doing all these press promotions with Donghun, who was so much more experienced than him in every aspect, to be sharing a room with him and talking to him every day.

Yet, Donghun made him feel comfortable. Maybe safe was too soppy of a way to describe it, but he made Junhee feel that way.

Junhee rolls over again, face in his pillow, and groans loudly into the darkness of his apartment. 

He knows what Byeongkwan and Chan would say if they were here. They’d smile at him, shake his shoulders, start shouting that he’s whipped. 

He’s not sure what Donghun would say if he told him. Maybe Donghun would smile softly, the way he does when Junhee answers questions in interviews, maybe he’d put an arm around Junhee-

_Fuck. _

Stop thinking. Stop thinking.

He doesn’t need to let his celebrity crush get in the way. That’s what it is. He idolised Donghun for years, and now they’re faking a relationship. Of course some remnants of feelings will surface, but he can’t let them get the best of him. Not while Donghun is doing his best to be professional.

He turns his head to the side, and lets his vision focus on the numbers his digital clock is blinking at him.

_ 8:30. _

It really is too early to sleep, but it’s not like he has anything to do otherwise.

He could gatecrash Chan’s date. Make sure the guy knows not to fuck with Chan otherwise he’d feel Junhee’s wrath.

Junhee turns over again, staring back up at the ceiling. He exhales deeply, and raises a hand to his forehead.

He could join Byeongkwan at practice, but he was choreographing something with his dance team and Junhee didn’t want to interrupt.

He could show up to Donghun’s interview. Maybe with supermarket flowers, just to surprise him, and hopefully get another article written about them. 

Junhee reaches out to his side, and grabs for his phone. One text message to Donghun’s agent later, and Junhee is on his feet, flicking on the lightswitch to slide on a flannel and a mask and those sneakers that Donghun tells him to wear more often. 

He looks at himself in the mirror. 

Maybe he should wear a blazer. 

So he reshuffles his outfit, until he’s dressed more appropriately to turn up to his (fake) boyfriend’s press interview. It’s just a blazer, a t-shirt, and some less-than-everyday jeans that he hadn’t worn since his last movie. 

Now all he needs are some flowers. 

The flowers are surprisingly easy to get for this late at night, Junhee’s uber taking a stop at a twenty-four hour supermarket on the way to the address his agent had texted him. The flower aisle is fairly easy to browse, but Junhee spends at least half an hour staring down the various bouquets, wishing that at some point Donghun would’ve told him his favourite flower. There are roses, but Junhee distinctly remember Donghun describing a gesture in the movie similar to that as _ overkill _.

Junhee shakes his head. He doesn’t know why he’s worrying so much. It’s just for the camera -- it’s fine. It’s not as if Donghun will keep them, anyways. 

He picks up a stem of tulips, and stares them down. Right. Perfect.

_ Tulips? Really? _ He can hear Donghun’s voice saying.

Junhee puts them back, and stares at the aisle again. 

Then, he sees them.

Okay, they’re still flowers from a supermarket -- but they’re a variety of colours and shapes, neatly arranged into a rainbow swirl, pulled together by a ribbon on a flimsy plastic covering. Even the small, wooden bear standee emerging from the middle says a cheesy I love you, and Junhee thinks it’s absolutely perfect.

  


The interview is being held in a small conference room, and the hotel lobby is filled to the brim with press packing their bags and snapping photos, clearly waiting around for Donghun to exit the room so they can get their final words in. 

Junhee feels their eyes on him as soon as he enters. He pulls his mask a little higher above his cheekbones to disguise his features, but his entrance, accompanied by his rainbow ensemble of flowers only draws attention to him. 

It’s weird -- being admired from a distance. None of the press approach him, instead aiming their cameras towards him and snapping pictures.

He needs to stop being so freaked out, this is why he’s here. To get some more pictures taken, for more publicity. He’s just trying to be useful, so their agents don’t have to keep tipping off the paparazzi everywhere him and Donghun go.

Donghun’s agent shuffles over in her heels, clearly holding back a smile. She leans in towards Junhee to whisper in his ear. 

“He’s just packing up,” she says. “He’ll be out in a second.”

“I didn’t expect this much paparazzi,” Junhee confesses, abashed, looking around them at the swarms of interviewers whispering amongst themselves, about _ him _and Donghun.

“Really?” She says, pulling away, a smile dancing across her features. “He’s the biggest name in South Korea right now.” 

As if on cue, the interviewer leaves the room, laptop clutched in between folded arms. He is saying something Junhee can’t quite hear, but as he exits the room, it’s clear he’s talking to Donghun -- who is following behind him with a courteous smile on his face. 

Junhee knows Donghun is handsome. This has been said, not only in the millions of articles about him, but by paparazzi and actors and actresses alike -- he is known for being absolutely, devastatingly handsome. And when Junhee met him for the first time, he was no less taken aback. 

It still surprises Junhee to see Donghun in the mornings, looking like the human version of handsome with messy hair and bags beneath his eyes, compared to the surreal Donghun who walks out of the interview -- hair arranged perfectly strand by strand, eyes shining with the light overhead, skin glowing, set of straight teeth on for display for the press to see. As soon as he makes himself known in the room, with the door clicking shut loudly behind him, the room is filled with the loud snapping of camera lenses going on and off. 

Donghun looks around the room, hands waving, until his eyes land on Junhee.

Right. He was here to give Donghun flowers. 

He tugs his mask down just a little, so he can smile in Donghun’s direction, and shakes the flowers in a wave. It almost feels like he’s in a movie, with all the lights and cameras clicking around him. 

Donghun’s agent promptly appears to shut the photoshoot down, security by her side, urging every interviewer to leave the lobby, putting up a barrier between Donghun and Junhee and the people who got paid to photograph them. _God_, Junhee thinks. _He would never get over that part of being an actor._

“Are these for me?” Donghun says.

Junhee is shocked back to reality, to Donghun standing less than a metre away from him, grin on his face. 

“Ah-- yes,” Junhee stutters, thrusting the bouquet in Donghun’s direction, flowers colliding with the other man’s chest. “For you.” 

Donghun takes them, small chuckle leaving him. Junhee finds himself grinning involuntarily in response, watching as Donghun wraps his hands around Junhee’s at the base of the bouquet. He’s warm, and his hands are soft and a little dry, and he’s looking at Junhee with a glint of something in his eye.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers.

Junhee’s heart catches in his throat.

“The press…” Junhee mumbles, casting a sideways glance to the last photographers slowly leaving the room.

“It’s fine,” Donghun says. “It’s not like we’re kissing in front of them. It’s just so the ones lurking outside can see something,” He looks down towards the flowers, then back up at Junhee. “Actor Lee Donghun and Park Junhee,” He leans in further, smiling as he gets closer to Junhee. “Share a quick kiss after press leave the venue.” Junhee stays perfectly still, and lets Donghun press their lips together briefly, soft and chaste. 

He can feel his grip around the flowers loosen, but Donghun keeps his hands firm.

“Actor Park Junhee thinks that was a bit underwhelming,” Donghun jokes, and presses their foreheads together.

“Are they still watching?” Junhee whispers, low, trying to avoid looking straight at Donghun’s lips. 

“Actor Park Junhee is being annoying,” Donghun says, moving away, pulling the flowers free from Junhee’s hands.

“Actor Park Junhee is tired of Actor Lee Donghun,” Junhee plays along, eyes following Donghun as he brings the flowers up to his nose. 

“Actor Lee Donghun thinks you’re not being convincing enough,” A smile tugs at the corners of Donghun’s lips. 

“Actor Park Junhee just wants to sleep.”

“Actor Lee Donghun thinks we should go out to eat, so it doesn’t look like you gave me flowers and left.” 

“Actor Park Junhee is thinking about it…” Junhee squints a little. “Actor Park Junhee thinks if Actor Lee Donghun pays, it should be okay.”

“Hey--” Donghun laughs, pointing a finger at Junhee. 

Junhee pulls his mask back up to hide his smirk, and makes a vague gesture towards the exit, ignoring how Donghun shakes his head and lets the flowers fall to his side, still wrapped in his fist. They both look at each other for a moment, before Donghun sighs, half a laugh in his voice, and starts to walk. 

“Come on,” he says, turning around to Junhee, starting to walk backwards towards the exit, flowers still in hand. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to my favourite place. You up for a drive? ” 

Junhee watches Donghun for a second -- smiling, shaking his head, throwing a hand over his shoulder to point towards the exit.

Then he joins him.

  


The restaurant is nice, expensive looking -- dark walls and heavily hanging chandeliers adorning the interior. Junhee feels a little out of place in his old blazer and jeans, but Donghun takes him by the hand-- guiding him along to take a seat at a table near the back. It has a reserved sign sitting neatly on the white tablecloth, which is quickly swept away by a staff member at the sight of Donghun, accompanied by a curt nod. 

“Can we get a bottle of Pinot Noir?” He asks the waiter, and he nods before running off towards the service door. 

Donghun leans back in his chair, sweeps his blazer away from creasing at his thighs. He eyes Junhee, who simply shuffles in his seat, feeling unbelievably out of place. Donghun had driven them out of Seoul traffic, not too far, but just enough so the congestion couldn’t get to them.

The place is big, several tables dotted around, all made for two or four people -- Junhee guesses the other side of the restaurant, behind the feature wall decorated with a waterfall, is where the bigger tables lie. Right beside him are several large windows, spanning the entire side of the restaurant. They overlook the main reason why Donghun had brought Junhee here -- the beach -- which you couldn’t see from the first floor but the second floor up showed it off in its entirety. The moon dances high, blue sky meeting the grey wash of waves that crash onto the darkened shore. 

“So,” Donghun says, evidently happy. “Do you like the view?” 

“It’s pretty,” Junhee comments, smiling as Donghun does. “I used to visit the beach a lot, when I was a kid.” 

“You grew up in Suncheon, right?” 

“Right,” Junhee says, suddenly feeling homesick. “I haven’t been in a while. To Suncheon, or the beach.” 

“You should take me,” Donghun says sweetly. “I’ve always wanted to go the beach properly, but I have no time.”

Junhee laughs at Donghun’s innocent expression, but before Donghun can open his mouth the waiter returns with the bottle of wine, and sets it down on the table before he runs off again. 

Donghun uncaps the wine, and pours both him and Junhee a glass. 

“It’s good,” he says, chuckling a little. “I promise.” 

“I’m not really a wine guy,” Junhee laughs, but picks up the glass regardless. 

“More of a strawberry milk guy?” 

A blush creeps up Junhee’s cheeks. 

“I guess.” 

Donghun takes a sip, watching Junhee over the cusp of his glass. Junhee shuffles again, feeling less uncomfortable but rather like something was tickling at him.

“So you come here a lot?” He says, finally. 

“Not a lot,” Donghun replies, and sets down his glass. “Just when I need to clear my mind.”

“Is fake dating me making you think too much?” 

_Why did he say that. Why did he say that. _

Donghun laughs, and shrugs a little before turning his head back out to the beach. He doesn’t seem that affected, or at all, but it still doesn’t release any of the tension that Junhee is harbouring.

“A lot of things,” Donghun says, softly. “Make me think too much.” 

He pouts a little, still looking out of the window. Junhee thinks he might die from how hard his heart is pounding against his ribcage. 

“Mostly… I guess I’m… scared,” Donghun continues, and turns to Junhee with earnest eyes. “At every point in my career, I think _ this is the most success I will ever have. _ I always miss things while they’re happening… that’s a bad thing to say isn’t it?” He chuckles softly. “I don’t know. I’m always afraid people are going-- to forget me. It’s greedy, isn’t it? To keep wanting more? But I can’t help myself.” 

There’s silence for a second, filled by the faint chatter of other patrons in the restaurant. Donghun taps his fingers anxiously on the table, looking away from Junhee again.

“There are people like me, though,” Junhee says. “Who will never forget you. Fans come and go, but -- your friends, people you inspired to do things, your impact in their lives. It’ll always be there.”

Donghun bites his lip, and sighs. 

“You’re really wise, Park Junhee.” 

Junhee doesn’t know what possesses him to make the words come out of his mouth, or for his hand to reach over the table, but something inside him soars, letting him squeeze Donghun’s hand comfortingly, and offer him a smile.

“I might be your fake boyfriend,” he says, lump in his throat. “But we’re real friends, yeah?” 

Donghun bites his lip, before he barks out a laugh and hangs his head. He flips his hand around to squeeze Junhee’s hand back. 

“Yeah.” 

━ 

Donghun runs into the toilet, evidently panicked, eyes scanning from left to right until they meet Junhee at the sink furthest away, applying liptint. Junhee only watches, mouth open, lipstick pressed against his bottom lip, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Our flight’s boarding in five minutes,” Donghun sighs, visibly deflating. “What are you doing?” 

“Just finishing up,” Junhee says, or attempts to, with an open mouth. He does one final sweep of his bottom lip, and pops both his lips together before recapping the tint and putting it in his backpack. 

“How long would you have stayed here if I didn’t come get you?” Donghun asks, eyes on Junhee as he swings his bag over his shoulders.

“Maybe forever,” Junhee answers, sarcastic. “Maybe you would just leave me, and I’d miss my flight because I was in the toilet.”

Donghun pushes open the door, and they are back in the row of gates waiting to board. His hand immediately finds Junhee’s, pinkies linked together, and they walk towards their gate. If people are staring at them, Junhe doesn’t notice, too occupied on keeping pace with Donghun, and trying very hard to keep their pinkies together despite their brisk walking speed.

“You know,” Donghun begins, turning to Junhee with a smile. “We’re probably the first Korean actors to have a full press round in the US. All because of that netflix deal. It’s cool, right?” 

“Eight days is a long time,” Junhee says. 

“Well, today we’re only going to arrive. And we have the last couple days off, too. Just a morning show,” Donghun replies, nudging Junhee. “So we can do some fun stuff when we arrive.” 

“I’ll be tired,” Junhee protests, coming to a stop once they reach the queue for their gate. 

“Please?” Donghun asks, and sticks out his bottom lip.

He looks like a lost puppy, with shiny eyes and pouty lips and Junhee would feel like he had kicked him if he said no. So, he says:

“Yeah, okay.”

“You’re the best boyfriend,” Donghun laughs, putting his free hand on the back of Junhee’s neck and leaning their foreheads together. “It’ll give the gossip magazines over there something to talk about, too.” 

Junhee tries to ignore the insistent fluttering in his chest, and how there seems to be something blocking him from breathing every time Donghun gets too close. 

He doesn’t have feelings. He’s just nervous about this whole thing, about this whole game they’re playing for the public. If they take one wrong step, the whole thing could backfire in their faces.

Junhee’s phone vibrates, and he pulls away to check it.

_ KBK: Jun hyung spotted, on his way to his honeymoon, kissing his boyfriend in public. Local public = disgusted but kind of into it _

_ Channie: Have fun, use protection !! _

Junhee clenches his jaw, and tries to hold back on snapping at them.

_ Park Junhee: Thanks _

He slides his phone on mute, and shoves it into his back pocket. Donghun eyes him beadily. 

“What?” Junhee asks, no short of irritated. He regrets it almost immediately, but the way Donghun’s features ease into a smile lets him know it’s okay.

“You look, and sound, angry.” 

“I am.” 

“Why?”

Junhee closes his eyes, and breathes out. Then he breathes in, and stays very still for as long as he can manage, before Donghun flicks him on the forehead.

“What the hell?” He half-yells.

He notices, just after, the tired faces of the commuters around them. It’s still dark outside, barely even dawn, and he’s screaming at Donghun. He makes an apologetic face towards a woman who looks like she would hit him given the chance.

Donghun puts his arms around Junhee’s shoulders.

“Don’t yell at your boyfriend in public,” Donghun says, batting his eyelashes. “Save that for--”

“What do you want?” Junhee sighs, growing more annoyed by the second. 

“To know why you’re angry?” 

“My friends are annoying.” 

“No elaboration?” The smile on Donghun’s face is growing by the second, and Junhee really wants to smack him. He thumbs at the back of Junhee’s neck, twirling his fingers around the smaller hairs at the base of his hair. 

“No.”

Donghun stares at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. 

What was he supposed to say? _I didn’t tell them about us, and now they think this is our honeymoon and we’re going to fuck or something. Not that I would mind, but--_ _fuck. Fucking hell, Park Junhee, keep it together for one second--_

“You’re doing it again,” Donghun chuckles, pulling his arms away. 

“What?” 

“You look like you’re not here,” Donghun says. “I get it, I’m boring--”

“No, I just--” Junhee begins, clashing his sentence with Donghun. They both stare at each other, steady, for a moment, only pausing to move further along the boarding queue. “They’re annoying, that’s it. Teasing me about the photoshoot that came out the other day.” 

“Ah, the Elle one?” 

Junhee nods, and Donghun winces before patting him on the shoulder. They’re right up to the passport desk now, and both of them surface their passports out of their pockets so the man behind the desk can check them.

“All because of my hair…” 

“I thought you looked good with the bun,” Donghun says, smirking, sliding his passport back into its case once it’s been checked.

“Shut up,” Junhee responds, doing the same. 

  
  


After a twelve hour flight, one and a half in flight meals, Junhee thinks he might just pass out in bed once he arrives at the hotel. He’s already drifting in and out of consciousness. The view is amazing, and the sheets are soft and warm and smell freshly washed, and all he wants to do is sleep even if he can hear Donghun saying something faintly in the distance--

“Junhee, get up,” he says, shaking his shoulder.

“Go away,” Junhee protests, rolling onto his side. “I’m tired.”

“You have to shower,” Donghun says, hand warm against Junhee. 

Junhee opens his eyes just a little, sees Donghun -- soft and warm, changed out of his airport outfit into sweatpants and a white t-shirt, hair wet. When did he take a shower? Did Junhee fall asleep? 

“What time is it?” Junhee slurs, rubbing at his eyes. 

“It’s only seven,” Donghun says. “We can eat later.”

He’s still looking at Junhee when he sits up and blinks away the bleariness from his vision. Junhee whines sleepily, and Donghun’s face softens -- his hand is by his side one second and on Junhee’s face the next. Junhee whines more, nestles into the warmth of Donghun’s palm.

“Don’t wanna get up,” he groans. 

Donghun laughs, soft and tinkling, and moves his hand from Junhee’s face to ruffle his hair. 

“Come on,” he encourages. “Take a shower then go back to sleep.”

“Cold.” 

“Take a shower and then you can get back into bed,” Donghun’s hands fall from his hair, slide down Junhee’s arms to his wrists, fingers completely encompassing them. He tries pulling Junhee to his feet, and only manages to slide the covers off the bed. 

“Don’t be difficult,” Donghun laughs. “I’ll tickle you.” 

“No,” Junhee says, rolling over, trying to make himself into a human california roll using only his bedsheets.

As per his word, Donghun dives forwards, hands at Junhee’s waist. Even though the bedsheets, he’s painfully ticklish, and before long he’s gasping for breath -- pawing at Donghun’s hands and almost crying with laughter. 

“Are you going to shower now?” Donghun says, and Junhee nods a tearful yes through his laughter. 

He pulls his hands away, and Junhee rolls of the bed, still wrapped in his sheets, ready to shower. 

  


When he returns, more awake than before and with freshly washed hair, Donghun is sitting on his bed, phone’s blue light bright against his features, and he only looks up at Junhee when he enters. 

“You should’ve slept,” Junhee remarks, voice raspy, shuffling the towel over his head. 

“I’m not tired,” Donghun says as he flicks off his phone.

Junhee comes to sit beside him, cross legged. 

In Japan, Donghun had taken the sofa. Here, however, there was only one bed -- and no sofa big enough for either of them to sleep on in sight. Their agents had downright refused to even think about two doubles, making vague comments about how information like that could get leaked to the press and ruin their entire chance at the relationship. 

As soon as his bare legs touch the sheets, Junhee can feel sleep coming back to him in waves. All he wants to do is lay his head down, and close his eyes, and --

“Junhee, don’t sleep yet,” Donghun says, and Junhee can feel irritation coil in his throat. 

“What,” he says, reopening his eyes. “Is it this time.”

“Your hair is still wet,” Donghun says, reaching out for the discarded towel. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Let me get sick,” Junhee says, closing his eyes. “I can’t be bothered to dry it right now.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Donghun offers, and Junhee cracks open an eyelid to see if he’s serious. “Really, I will. I’d rather dry your hair than you get sick and not show up to half the interviewers because you decided to be stupid.”

“Okay, okay…” Junhee answers, straightening his back.

Donghun places a hand on his waist, signalling him to turn so his back is facing towards Donghun. Junhee sleepily obliges, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Behind him, Donghun sits, cross legged, tips of his feet touching Junhee’s back, but not uncomfortably.

Then he starts. He lifts the towel up to Junhee’s hair, and begins slowly rubbing in small circles where the hair is shortest, specifically right down at the root. It feels like Donghun is massaging circles into Junhee’s scalp, and the sensation is so relaxing Junhee feels himself physically deflate against Donghun, feeling the muscles in his chest against his back, Donghun’s arms ghosting past his shoulders.

Donghun leans forward, lets his lips touch the curl of Junhee’s ear.

“Try to keep straight,” he says, and places a soft hand at the base of his spine to push him upwards. 

It only takes a few more minutes of softly massaging Junhee’s scalp, and Donghun throws the towel to one side, shuffling himself away from Junhee to allow him to collapse on the bed. Through half parted eyelids, Junhee can see Donghun smiling at him, and mouthing something that Junhee can’t decipher.

It doesn’t matter, because sleep is finally coming to him, and it’s so much sweeter with dry hair, clean clothes, and Donghun beside him.

  
  


The first thing Junhee realises when he wakes up, is how beautiful the view of the city looks at night.

He’s never been so high up, staring right at skyscrapers that seem to glimmer with yellow in the dark of night. It’s beautiful, and through half-shut eyes it almost seems as if the entire city is ablaze.

The second thing Junhee realises, as he rolls over, expecting to find Donghun -- is that the other side of the bed is empty. Still warm, but empty -- no sign of Donghun, the sheets all drawn back hastily, pillow moved away at an angle, phone charger sitting unplugged on the side table.

The third thing he notices is the humming in his ears, and as he blinks away sleep, he realises it’s coming from the bathroom. Even the carpet is cast over with a small yellow shadow from where the door has been swung open. There’s no other sound in the quiet of the hotel room, and as much as Junhee wants to roll over and go back to sleep, he can’t. His curiosity gets the better of him.

With heavy limbs and static buzzing through his head, Junhee manages to swing off the bed, placing his feet flat on the ground. He feels dizzy as soon as he stands, and the soft carpeting of the hotel room does nothing to quell that.

“Donghun?” He says -- but it comes out as more of a whisper, voice raspy. He clears his throat, touching his adam’s apple self-consciously.

He walks further towards the door to the bathroom, and pauses just outside, in the faint slit of yellow that’s escaping.

He knocks once. Then again.

No answer.

“Donghun?” He asks, quiet, pushing open the door.

The light once it hits him is almost blinding, but he manages to blink it away -- haze in his vision parting to reveal the figure right in front of him. It’s Donghun, still in his sweatpants and white t-shirt, elbows on his thighs, head buried in his hands. Junhee is almost too shocked to think for a second, let alone speak.

He looks quickly across the bathroom, from the tub and shower on the left to the toilet in front of him to the large glimmering mirror on his left, complete with shiny light bulbs and, _ ah _, Donghun’s phone, flipped over so the back is up, far away from where he’s sitting on the toilet.

“Donghun?” Junhee whispers.

This time he gets a response. The other man looks up from where he’s sitting, eyes wide and glimmering in the bright light overhead. His face is red and blotchy, lines from the pillow marked against his cheeks, the signs of a good sleep.

Arguably, the most important thing Junhee notices, is that Donghun’s been crying.

“Yeah?” Donghun replies, and his voice is lower than Junhee remembers. It’s shakier too, almost like he’s going to burst into tears again. 

A part of Junhee wants to say _ Nothing _ , and run off back to their bed and turn around and stare at the city again and maybe pretend that this wasn’t happening. He wasn’t equipped to deal with this -- this wasn’t in the terms and conditions of the contract they didn’t sign. As far as he recalled, his agent had never confronted him and said, _ Hey, Junhee, thanks for agreeing. Just so you know, after your 12 hour flight and a 3 hour nap, Donghun is going to cry in the toilet and you’re gonna need to sort that out. _

The part of him that he would say isn’t a coward, wants to sit on the edge of the bathtub, wants to reach out and touch Donghun’s shoulder, ask him what’s wrong. Because Junhee has seen him cry once, and that was backstage after the first Japanese late-night show they went on. Because, Donghun is most likely one of the strongest people Junhee knows. 

So, he listens to the non cowardly part of himself, even if his heart is hammering against his ribs like it wants to escape. 

“What’s wrong?” Junhee says, softly. 

“Nothing,” Donghun replies, too quick to be truthful, rubbing his hands at his eyes and cheeks before placing them on either side of his neck. “I’m fine, really.” 

“You’re crying.” 

“Really--” 

“Donghun,” Junhee interrupts, tone a little harsher than before (or, at least, trying to be). “For… this,” He gestures between him and Donghun, eliciting a small smile from the older man. “To work… We have to be honest with each other.” 

Donghun sighs, deep and heavy, and leans his head back against the wall behind him. His hands drop from around his neck to his sides, and he eyes Junhee carefully, gaze wavering. 

“My mom called,” he says, quiet, so much so that Junhee almost can’t hear him over the exhaust. “And she said that, that my little brother is in the hospital.” 

Junhee reaches out for Donghun’s hand, and takes it in between two of his own. 

“Is he okay?” 

“He will be,” Donghun nods, and raises his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “He was riding a bicycle at night, and a car hit him.” 

“Donghun…”

“No, lucky bastard…” he half laughs, looking outwards into the dark room. “He got away with barely a scratch… just a fractured wrist…” 

Junhee waits, rubbing Donghun’s palm in between his fingers. He doesn’t know what else to do, what else to say, just waits for Donghun to continue.

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional,” Donghun clears his throat, and exhales hard. “No, I-- it’s not really because he’s hurt. A fractured wrist isn’t that bad, he’s young-- it’ll heal. It’s just-- I wasn’t there. I’m not there. To be a big brother, and-- protect him, or something like that.” 

He turns to face Junhee, eyes softening.

“This is stupid.”

“No, I--,” Junhee says, suddenly at a loss for words. “What you’re saying is-- I get it. You want to be there for your younger brother. It’s not a crime.” 

Donghun breathes out, and closes his eyes. His eyelashes fan out against the tips of his cheekbones, and for a moment-- he looks strangely at peace. 

“Do you ever regret becoming an actor,” he says. “Regret… not having time for anything else. I haven’t dated a guy in years, I haven’t seen my family since Chuseok. I should be there for them, but I’m not.” 

“It’s what your passionate about,” Junhee says, smiling a little. “It’s good to make sacrifices for your dreams.” 

“So, so many sacrifices,” Donghun laughs, and it’s hollow. “I feel like I’m not human anymore. I don’t have family, all my friends are always busy being actors, and--” He takes in a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” 

“I’m here for you,” Junhee replies, earnest. “I get it, I really do.” 

Donghun stares at him for a moment, exhaustion evident in his gaze. 

“I don’t know anymore, Junhee. People always describe me as cold, and an-- an asshole. The only reason people want me around is because I live in a fucking penthouse and have money.” 

“That’s not true,” Junhee protests, shaking his head. “You know that’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it?” Donghun says. His voice is as thin as a thread. “I went on a few dates with a guy a couple months ago, and then we slept together. All he wanted was to drink my vodka and then post on his instagram about how he fucked an actor in a penthouse. He didn’t return my calls after that. As if the only thing that mattered to him was-- putting me on a shelf of his trophies, of actors he’d had sex with, and I-I just let him.”

“It's not your fault, hyung. Not everyone’s like that.”

“Who?”

There are tears brimming in Donghun’s eyes again. He sits up and wipes them away with the back of his hand, pulling away from Junhee, and looks into his lap. A laugh leaves his lips, but it sounds more sour than anything. Junhee watches as he turns over his hands, staring at them as if they could give him the answers. 

“Who isn’t like that?” He looks towards Junhee, jaw clenched, eyes filled with tears. “Who isn’t?” 

_ Me _, Junhee wants to say. But there’s a lump in his throat and so much at stake and a line he knows he shouldn’t cross.

So he just leans forward, presses his forehead against the side of Donghun’s head, a hand on his thigh. 

“You just have to find them,” he says. “You’re a good guy, Lee Donghun. I would bet my life there’s someone who… who will know all your flaws, and still choose you over anyone else.” 

They stay like that for a few moments, silent, still, only noise the murmur of bathroom lights, only feeling Donghun’s stray hairs against his forehead. If Junhee listens hard enough, he can hear the beat of Donghun’s heart, his shallow breaths as they leave his chest.

“Thank you,” Donghun whispers, and reaches for Junhee’s hand to squeeze it. “I know you’re tired. You probably didn’t want to hear my sob story.”

“Shut up,” Junhee says. “Just take my affection and stop talking.”

Donghun laughs, and Junhee pulls away from him. He’s smiling broadly, still looking down at his hands, and Junhee can’t help the smile that crosses his own face in return. 

“I can’t believe I just cried with you in an American toilet,” Donghun says, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Junhee chuckles, standing up and shoving Donghun’s shoulder lightly. “It’s better than crying alone in an American toilet.” He offers a hand to Donghun, to pull him up to his feet. 

“I guess,” Donghun replies as he steps out of the toilet, flicking the switch off as he leaves. “Being with you is better.” 

Junhee can’t tell if the smirk Donghun shoots over his shoulder is serious or not, so he offers a weak one back -- tries to ignore the fluttering in his chest as he reaches the foot of the bed. He watches as Donghun slides underneath the sheets, still sitting straight, and pats the empty space next to him as a sign that Junhee should join him.

So Junhee does, watching as Donghun turns the other way, back facing Junhee, and mumbles a faint _ goodnight _. For a few seconds after he replies, Junhee can’t tear his eyes from Donghun’s back -- the way the white material falls against his shoulder blades, crowds at his waist, exposing the dip of skin just below his nape, golden in the faint light and so, so unreachable. 

He turns over, shaking away his thoughts, and is confronted instead with the city glowing in the dark. It’s still bright, and he can see the lights behind his eyelids when he closes them, but the jet lag is catching up to him, and the warmth of the sheets that encase him allow him to close his eyes and drift. 

  
  


When he wakes, it’s because light from outside is making its way through his barely cracked eyelids, lighting up the entire room in it’s yellow glow. It must be no later than 6am, but Junhee feels his body waking up regardless, the warmth of the sun falling over his skin doing him no favours.

Through his sleepy daze, he recognises the feeling of something warm and heavy draped across his waist, and with a little blinking and glancing down, he recognises Donghun’s arm balancing on his middle, the other drawn beneath him and pressed flat against his stomach. He tries not too move too sharply, inhale too deeply, for fear of waking him up.

_ Right _. Donghun. Of course. They must have moved in their sleep. No big deal.

Junhee shuffles, just slightly, and freezes.

Through the thin material of his t-shirt, he recognises the sensation of Donghun’s nose and forehead pressed into his back. 

It’s not a big deal. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. Donghun probably just rolled over and found something (Junhee) to hold, and wrapped his arms around him. It’s not a big deal. It’s just Donghun, whose warm, and soft, and whose steady breathing fills the room, a sure sign that he’s asleep. 

Junhee kind-of, really, really wants to go back to sleep. They both stayed up, pulled an all-nighter, together, and had taken a turbulent 12 hour plane where neither of them managed to sleep at all.

Would Donghun be uncomfortable if he found them in this position? Junhee knows he doesn’t mind, because the way Donghun’s arms are wrapped around him and the way he can feel the flutter of Donghun’s breath against the thin material of his t-shirt is comforting, gentle in just the right way. He feels kind of small, kind of safe and secure, wrapped up in the sheets and in Donghun’s arms, held to his chest as if he was being protected, somehow. 

Just as he’s about to close his eyes, about to not-so-discreetly shuffle back into Donghun, a faint chime makes itself known from beneath Donghun’s pillow. Donghun groans in response, head shaking against Junhee’s back, arms pulling away from him.

_ No, no, no. Please don’t go. _

The alarm is turned off after a few moments, and is followed shortly by a deep yawn from Donghun’s end.

Then, silence. Junhee stares at the city view, sun in his eyes, perfectly still -- trying to breathe regularly as if he’s still asleep. 

“Junhee?” Donghun asks.

Silence.

The weight on the bed shifts, obviously from Donghun’s departure, and Junhee can hear his feet pad against the carpeting, and the bathroom door swing shut. Junhee waits a few moments after, just for good measure, just to make sure Donghun doesn’t come back out for a forgotten something.

As soon as he resolves that the coast is clear, Junhee rolls onto his back -- feeling the warmth of the side of the bed where Donghun was laying. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

It takes everything that’s in him not to scream. He grits his teeth and rubs at his face, trying to wash away the feelings that overcome him in that brief second.

━ 

It becomes a routine, almost. Sort of domestic, how the two of them return to their rooms after their press interviews, ditching their blazers and jeans and pulling masks up high on their faces (but not so high that they couldn’t be recognised completely). 

Even though Junhee feels bone deep tired after so many interviews and press rounds and morning talk shows, the way Donghun looks at him pleading from below the rim of his bucket hat makes him give in every time. He tries to push that thought away, ignore how the coiling in his chest at every thought about Donghun has given way to an immeasurable warmth that almost makes it hard for him to think.

They go out, and it’s fun. They take pictures for their instagrams, tweet out messages on their twitter, stop at every Starbucks they encounter and play rock-paper-scissors for who covers the bill this time. Junhee ignores Byeongkwan and Chan’s message, the teasing comments on all his posts.

In the mornings, they keep ending up in the same position. It’s nice, and comfortable, and Junhee keeps waking up minutes before Donghun’s alarm goes off. He brings it up to Donghun, one day. 

“You always hug me when we sleep,” Junhee comments, staring at Donghun while he sucks on his flimsy paper straw.

“Ah,” Donghun laughs as he swirls his drink. “Sorry. I’m just a cuddly person.” 

“Don’t apologise!” Junhee protests, immediately blushing at how eager he was to defend Donghun. The other man simply raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “I mean,” Junhee continues, trying to act nonchalant. “If you want to, that’s fine. I’m not complaining. You’re warm, so.” 

Donghun laughs at that, deep and full. He murmurs an _ If you want, _ and smirks at Junhee over the cup of his iced coffee. 

That night, when Donghun climbs into bed after his shower, Junhee can feel him turn over, and place a tentative hand at Junhee’s waist. Junhee places his hand over Donghun’s, closes his eyes as he pulls it tighter around him, trying not to suffocate on his own feelings. It’s nice, though, once they’re settled, Donghun’s arm finding it’s way beneath Junhee harder than the latter expected, and he realises that the hugging-while-sleeping must've been a mutual agreement between Donghun and his own body, pushing itself into him unconsciously.

Once Donghun's arms are hooked around Junhee’s frame, Donghun rests his head behind Junhee’s, breath fanning over his neck. 

“Is this okay?” Donghun murmurs, half a giggle in his voice. Junhee can already tell what kind of expression he has. 

“Yeah,” Junhee breathes.  


Donghun takes Junhee to a park that sits right beside the river, just on the edge of sunset. Trees adorn the park, neatly trimmed and picturesque. There are families walking around, leaning on the gates that separate them and the river. Cyclists dart by, bodies hunched over, bells whistling as they go by. Donghun only takes his hand, drags him to one side so they can pause by the river.

The light is quickly fading, and they both take seats beside each other on the bench. Over the river, Junhee can see the pink ribbons dancing across the sky, reflected similarly in the water. The glow from the sun seems almost orange as it begins its descent downwards. 

“Five days down,” Donghun comments, lifting his coffee to his lips, and casting a glance towards Junhee. “Three days left.” 

“That was fast,” Junhee remarks, still staring outwards at the setting sun.

“It’s because you were with me,” Donghun nudges Junhee, a smile on his features. “At least we’ll get to relax once we’re back.” 

“Right,” Junhee says, stretching his arms above his head. “No more press.”

“Mhmm. Are you going back to Suncheon?”

Junhee smiles weakly. Just the mention of Suncheon and parents and sisters makes him feel sick.

“Maybe,” he replies, instead. 

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

When he turns to face Donghun, the older man is looking at him, no hint of a smile on his features. It’s partially ridiculous, how Donghun can read him so well, like Junhee’s an open book that he can just flick through whenever he pleases. Especially since Donghun is so hard to read himself, all caught up in a bunch of tangled messy emotions that rarely come out and when they do they’re all spilling out at night in a hotel toilet. 

“I don’t know,” Junhee replies, finally, turns back to the river. “It’s just a lot.”

“Are they not… accepting?” 

“I don’t know, really.” 

He can feel Donghun’s eyes on him, and he feels so exposed, like he’s peeling off his layers one by one, but Junhee’s letting him. The only other people that know about his parents, about his childhood, are Byeongkwan and Chan-- and they had known each other for a long time beforehand. Junhee doesn’t know what it is about Donghun particularly, that allowed him to open up so easily after a few months of knowing him. He just felt safe, like he would keep all of Junhee’s secrets locked away somewhere only he had the key to.

Donghun waits for him to continue, so he does. 

“My parents own a diner. They wanted me to do something bigger, I guess. Be a doctor or… something. They let me do singing and dancing classes, and- don’t get me wrong-- I’m really grateful they did. But in highschool I did theatre and performance arts and they told me, to keep my head down. And focus on my grades.” 

Junhee pauses there, and inhales shakily.

“I basically… failed my final exams. I had already got an offer from a performing arts university in Seoul, and once I told my parents they… they told me to get out. That doing shows in school didn’t mean anything, and they told me that acting wasn't... a real job. Not for someone like me. And that I would never make it anywhere, and that there are a thousand guys just like me,” Junhee looks over at Donghun. “And my mom cried. She cried when I told her, she cried when I left, and I haven’t spoken to her since.” 

There’s silence, the two of them watching darkness envelop the city.

“Wow,” Donghun says after some time. “I’m sorry, that’s…”

“Shitty?” Junhee finishes, ruffling the back of his head. “It’s fine. It’s been a while, I don’t really… care that much anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” 

“Because, what they said… just reminds me of what I said when we first spoke.” 

Junhee swallows thickly, and looks over at Donghun. Concern writes itself onto his face in a frown and furrowed eyebrows, in the downward slant of his eyes. Junhee wants to hold him, to stop him from looking so sad. This was his sob story, but Donghun managed to look sadder than Junhee feels telling it.

“You’ve apologised enough.”

“I don’t--”

“Shh,” Junhee interrupts, placing one finger at the centre of Donghun’s lips. “Let’s shut up and watch the sunset.” He pulls his finger away, and crosses his arms back over the fence, finger feeling tingly from where it had touched Donghun.

Donghun is smiling now, not looking at Junhee but instead at the sun. The sky is a brilliant orange now, and the night is beginning to fall. 

“Still,” he says, after a minute or so of silence, sparing a glance towards Junhee.

Junhee smirks softly. 

Donghun reaches towards him, and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“You deserve so much better,” he says, voice and eyes soft. “I’m sorry I treated you the same as them.” 

When Junhee looks at him, the sunset is shedding strange shadows across his face, bringing out the slant of his nose and the curve of his jaw. All Junhee wants to do is touch, wants to reach out and run his hand along it and feel the breath beneath Donghun’s skin. He wants to kiss him, properly, hands on his face, wants to tell him a thousand times over it’s okay, it’s okay.

The magnitude of emotion that threatens to burst out of his chest is a little nauseating. 

They look at each other for a few moments, a small frown at Donghun’s lips, eyes seeming like pools of honey in the golden shimmer of sun.

“It’s okay,” Junhee whispers. “You’re here now, and that’s all-- that’s good. If you left…” 

Donghun touches his forehead to Junhee’s, and smiles a little.

“I would never leave.” 

“Me neither.” 

Junhee could kiss him right now. He could close the distance between them, taste him for once that wasn’t in front of a thousand cameras or the press, he could show Donghun -- show Donghun he was the one. He was the one he wouldn’t leave him. 

Donghun pulls away, and the moment is over. They both turn back out to the river, and the sun has almost completely disappeared-- only faint specks of light remaining.

━

Junhee nurses his drink, shooting tentative glances around the bar. Most people here he doesn’t know, or rather, remember-- but they seem to be mingling well, alcohol in the air and in their blood. The smell makes him feel sick to his stomach, but he has to be here -- he has to attend his own press wrap meeting, after all.

It would be a lot better if Donghun would turn up. They were running late and Donghun had ushered Junhee out with agent, promising he would only be five minutes. Yet, it had been almost half an hour, and Junhee had been sitting alone at the bar, nodding politely to translators and other english-speaking people who he didn’t recognise.

He looks at his watch._ 9:36. _ Great.

He thinks about taking out his phone to text Donghun and ask where he was, but if he had learnt anything about Donghun in the last six months of knowing him, it was that he never replied to texts, or picked up phone calls. Donghun’s agent had reassured Junhee it wasn’t only a him-thing, and that he just as often blanked her too. 

Junhee scans the bar again. It’s cosy, but still spacious -- all completely rented out for him and Donghun and the people that made their movie happen. He takes a sip of his beer, and taps impatient fingers against the counter.

“Excuse me, excuse me.”

The heavily accented voice comes from not too far away, and even before Junhee can turn his head he recognises it’s owner immediately.

It’s Donghun, clearly, pushing through the crowds of people, waving at Junhee, smile on his face. For how long he took, he really didn’t push how extensive his look was -- the same pink-accented blazer that Junhee was wearing, and his hair was lazily swept back. Still, he looked excited, waving his hand furiously in Junhee’s direction until he could bustle through the final crowds of people.

Once he reaches the bar, he sets down his hand heavily, and exhales a deep breath, as if he’d been running.

“You’re…” Junhee peers at his watch. “37 minutes late.”

“I apologise, I apologise,” Donghun chuckles, sliding onto the seat beside Junhee. “I got stuck in traffic.”

“You could’ve just walked it,” Junhee retorts. “It’s not like anyone recognises us here anyways.” 

“I guess, but!” Donghun says, pointing one finger up. “I needed to get this.”

He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small box. It’s small, white, flat. Junhee looks towards Donghun, and cocks his eyebrow.

“Are you about to fake propose.” 

“No!” Donghun says defensively. “Overkill. I just got you this.”

Donghun cracks open the box, and spins it around so it’s facing Junhee. He can’t really see what it is in the dim lighting of the bar, but he can see the gold glowing. A closer look, once the box is in his hand, and he’s squinting at it, proves that it’s a necklace -- a gold one at that -- with a small charm on the end. Junhee is taken aback, to say the least, half-believing that his eyes are tricking him, or that this is some elaborate prank.

“See, look,” Donghun says excitedly, pointing towards the box. “It’s half a butterfly wing. I have the other half. So together, they’re a whole butterfly.” 

“Oh,” Junhee replies, still in shock. 

“Like our movie?” 

“Yeah,” Junhee breathes, and picks it up delicately with one finger. 

The chain is thin and long, and the charm at the end is delicate. As it spins on the tip of his finger, the engraving on the back makes itself clear. _LDH_. Donghun’s initials. 

“God, Donghun,” Junhee laughs, suspended in disbelief. “How.. how much was this?” 

“Does it matter?” Donghun whispers, sliding closer to Junhee, placing one hand on his thigh. “Do you like it?” 

Junhee looks up at him, and he looks so earnest -- practically begging for Junhee’s approval, eyes wide and smile wider. Junhee places one hand on the side of his face, cautious of the people who may be watching, and whispers:

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

Donghun squeezes his thigh before he pulls away, letting Junhee’s hand fall from his face back to the bar. 

“Here,” he says, and reaches out with his palm flat. “I’ll put it on you. Turn around.” 

Junhee places the necklace in Donghun’s hand, and his heart almost aches at how small the charm looks amongst the chain, coiled up in Donghun’s big hand. A soft hand hovering at his waist reminds him to turn around, so he does -- back facing Donghun. 

Donghun stands up behind him, seat squeaking as he does so. He hears Donghun undo the clasp, and sees him pull it around to the front of his neck. He leans in close to Junhee’s ear, the opposite side to where people can see him.

“I thought it’d be nice,” he says. “For when we go back to Korea, right? Even if we don’t keep appearances up that much, people still know we’re together if we wear this.” 

_ Of course, _ Junhee thinks, lump forming in his throat, almost suffocating _ . It’s never about him. _It’s always about the people watching, what they’ll think -- how to make it more convincing for them. Of course Donghun would never buy him a gold necklace just because. He was stupid for even entertaining it, even thinking about it. 

Donghun puts his hand on Junhee’s waist again, and Junhee turns back around. 

“You look pretty,” Donghun says softly, smile crossing his face. “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Junhee murmurs. 

There’s a beat of silence, where Donghun bites his lip, still smiling, and shakes his head. 

There’s nothing for a moment, and then Donghun leans forward, pulls Junhee into a hug. He’s warm, and smells like soap and cologne and freshly ironed clothes. Junhee ignores how his eyes tear up, how lifting his arms to Donghun’s shoulders feels heavy. 

_This is all fake. This is all fake. _

Donghun rests their foreheads together, and closes his eyes.

“I think you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Park Junhee,” he whispers, barely audible.

He’s so perfect, in that moment. So reachable but unattainable, so close but so far, like Junhee could never fully have him in his grip. His hair is messy, a gold chain that Junhee now recognised as his other half sits around his neck, his white shirt unbuttoned exposing the fall of his chest. He's warm, and soft, and gentle, and so _ Donghun _. All of him.

So Junhee leans up and kisses him, without warning. It’s not like they need it, anymore, after so many kisses exchanged for the entire world to see. It’s exactly what’s happening now, right, kissing just so the press can see, just so people know. If Donghun giving him a necklace and holding him by the waist wasn’t clue enough.

His mouth is inviting. Donghun moves against him, slow, arms tightening around his waist. He’s a really good fucking actor. Junhee leans up, just a little, lets himself drown in the feeling that might be the last. 

It’s fake, but it feels so real. All of it. Their dates in Korea, the way he held Donghun backstage in Japan, the hand-holding at the airport, their shared bed over here, the way Donghun wrapped his arms around him, the way Donghun gave him a necklace, the way Donghun was kissing him now, slow and soft, just enough but still not, the way Donghun smelled of cologne and starched shirts and tasted like Junhee’s drink and breath mints, the way Donghun’s thumb rubbed circles into Junhee’s back, the way Donghun existed. Donghun. He felt so real. So, so real. 

Junhee pulls away, and nestles his face into Donghun’s shoulder. Tears don’t come to him, but he doesn’t expect they’ll take long.

Donghun lifts his hand, puts it on the back of Junhee’s head. Are people even watching them anymore? Did they look away when him and Donghun started to kiss? Were they even watching in the first place? 

Was all of this, pretending, worth it, in the end? 

━ 

Act Three 

“I think,” Junhee’s agent says, hands already together. “Donghun and Junhee should get a round of applause, for being the best fake couple I’ve ever seen.” 

So she and Donghun’s agent clap, and Donghun and Junhee watch. Junhee can feel Donghun’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t bother to turn around, to meet his, to see his wink and his smirk because Junhee knows already that’s probably all he has to say. 

“You guys can break it off, now… I think it’d be best to wait a little longer, just until the original buzz around the press has died out.” 

Donghun and Junhee both nod, and she smiles at them, clapping her hands together.

“Great! Well… meeting adjourned, then. You can both go.”

Junhee throws his frappe cup in the bin behind him, and makes a beeline for the exit. He puts in both earphones, and tries to ignore how he can hear Donghun’s footsteps chasing after him, calling his name despite Junhee obviously not wanting to hear him. 

“Junnie!”

Sighing, Junhee unplugs one of his headphones, and offers a tightlipped smile to Donghun. The other man has a huge grin across his face, hands buried in his pockets now that he’s stopped running, and seems irritatingly casual.

“We did pretty well, didn’t we?” He says, nudging Junhee’s shoulder.

“Yep,” he replies. “But now it’s over.” 

Donghun looks almost taken aback, lips parted slightly, and Junhee wants to kiss him but punch him at the same time.

“Already?” He asks.

“I mean…” Junhee scratches the back of his head. “What’s the point of keeping this going?” 

As soon as the words leave Junhee’s mouth, Donghun laughs. He ruffles his hair abashedly, and lets a smile relax his features.

“Wow,” he says, half a joke in his tone. “I was really starting to like you.” 

“Me too,” Junhee replies, as they reach the end of the corridor. He turns to look at Donghun. “But… none of it-- was real anyways.”

Donghun studies Junhee for a moment, as if trying to decipher his expression. After a few seconds, he turns his head away, biting his lip. 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet. 

━ 

Junhee lays on his back, and looks up.

The bed feels empty. 

A couple weeks ago, he was laying in Donghun’s arms. It sounds strangely dramatic when he puts it that way, but it was true -- a month ago Donghun’s face was pressed into the curve of his back and arms wrapped around his waist. A month ago they were walking around New York, iced coffee in hand, watching the sunset together and eating a fancy restaurants.

They hadn’t seen each other for a while, after. Donghun went to visit his family as soon as he arrived at the airport, quickly parting ways with Junhee with a kiss to his forehead and a wave. 

Then the meeting.

Of course, whatever they had eventually had to end. It was all fake, perfectly orchestrated for the press and the promotion of the film they had together. 

He touches his necklace, and closes his eyes. 

Everything they did was meant for other people. 

Why did Donghun hold him, then, in their bed? Why did he kiss Junhee like that at their press wrap? Why did he seem so happy when it’s all over?

Junhee runs his fingernail along the engraving. _ LDH _. The necklace must’ve cost a fortune. Donghun must’ve been really desperate to prove to the public that he was in a relationship. 

But it was fake.

All of his thoughts come back to one point: that they started this for one reason, and ended it for the same, and those were on some sort of straight line of common sense, but, Junhee-- he ruined it. He had to go and scribble across the line, darting up and down with his own feelings, ignoring professionalism, too busy trying to drown in Donghun. 

It wasn’t fake to him. 

Which part of it hurt more? The fact that his feelings were unrequited? Or the fact that he had been able to hold Donghun, kiss him, lean into his shoulder, tell him things he had hardly told anyone? Or was it the fact that after so long of trying so hard to get somewhere, anywhere, he was finally able to feel real, but it all means nothing?

He raises both hands to his head, and lets out a deep groan. 

Maybe if Donghun had just ignored him after they came back from the US. Maybe if he hadn’t sent pictures of him with his family, his bedroom, baby pictures, Junhee would be able to move on. Maybe if he hadn’t looked at Junhee, as they left the conference room, and said _ I was really starting to like you _. Because, fuck, he doesn’t mean it the same way Junhee does. He doesn’t mean it the same way Junhee feels it, and it hurts. 

Just as Junhee is about to roll over, try to get some sleep, there’s a faint knock at his door.

He freezes, half rolled over, eyes wide.

_ Maybe, it’s--? _

_ Is that too much to hope for? _

“Hyung!” 

_ Oh. _

“Coming!” 

The entire apartment is dark -- Junhee was hoping to sleep -- so he flicks on the lights as he goes through, almost wincing at the brightness suddenly filling the room. Despite his yell, Byeongkwan and Chan don’t stop banging at his door and screaming out his name. 

He turns the key in the lock, and immediately the two younger men come charging in, plastic rustling as he walks in, undoubtedly filled with ice cream. Junhee just watches them enter, and shuts the door behind them, sighing as their laughter and chatter begin to fill the apartment.

“Channie and I just finished practice,” Byeongkwan says. “We finished the whole dance.”

He slings the plastic bag across Junhee’s coffee table, and lazes across the sofa. Chan joins him, sitting on the arm of the chair, legs long enough to reach the floor. 

“Good job,” Junhee says, half hearted, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa. “Anything else interesting?” 

“Mmm,” Byeongkwan hums, whipping out his phone from his back pocket. He adjusts the front of his cap, and then places his phone back down on his chest, arms crossed over his middle. “No.” 

“What about you, hyung?” Channie prompts, teasing. “You and Donghun~” 

Junhee bites his lip, and his gaze flickers between his two friends on his sofa. They both look eager, excited -- and as much as Junhee wants to lie to them to keep their hope going, he can’t. He can’t live with more lies.

“We broke up.”

“What?” The two of them say, in sync. 

Chan’s mouth drops open, and Byeongkwan scrambles into sitting position on the sofa. His phone drops to the side, possibly falling in between the sofa cushions. Junhee realises that he’d probably have to dig in and get them later, after his friend realised.

“Hyung!” Byeongkwan calls, snapping fingers in front of Junhee. Nothing less than concern is written across his face, from his furrowed eyebrows and pout, to the way he’s reaching forward to touch Junhee’s thigh. 

“What happened? When did you break up? Why?” 

“It…” Junhee says, and feels tears spring to his eyes. “Why am I crying. It’s not that big of a deal, really…” 

“Hyung, you’ve been dating for two months. You see each other every day, of course you’re going to be sad--”

“No, I-” Junhee interrupts, and Byeongkwan is taken aback by his sudden outburst. 

He closes his eyes, and exhales deeply.

“We were never dating.”

He cracks open one eyelid, to see both men staring at him, confused.

“What?”

“It was all…” Junhee tries to speak around the lump in his throat, but his voice cracks. “Fake. All of it.” 

“What?” Byeongkwan says again, louder.

Junhee buries his face in his hands, feeling his cheeks start to burn. Pinpricks of tears are forming at the corners of his eyes. 

“Our agents told us that we should do it for publicity.”

He pulls away his face from his hands, and expects to see anger on Byeongkwan and Chan’s expressions. He lied to them, after all. He would deserve anything they said to him. 

“But, you… have feelings for him? Right?”

“Yeah,” Junhee says, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible.

It doesn’t work, his face creasing, tears starting to fall. As soon as they do, he raises his hands to wipe them, but Byeongkwan and Chan have already jumped on him, wrapping their arms around him, their heads buried in his shoulders, hands rubbing at his shoulders. 

It’s overwhelming, and Junhee can’t help but sob.

They stay like that for a while, Junhee sniffling, Byeongkwan and Chan silent with their arms encasing him in an almost suffocating hug. 

“Did he break up with you?” Chan asks, softly. 

“Our agents-” Junhee hiccups. “s-said_ it’s over _, so I-I told him there was no point- carrying it on.” 

Byeongkwan pulls away sharply.

“Why?” 

“Because it’s fake.” 

“What if he has feelings for you too?”

“He- he doesn’t,” Junhee almost yells, shrugging free from Chan’s arms. “You don’t get it. If-if I hadn’t said it then, he w-would’ve said it later. There’s-- no point. Of me getting my feelings hurt.”

“How do you know he doesn’t have feelings for you?” 

“He seemed-- happy,” Junhee laughs, bitter. “For everything to be-be over. No, he-- he just said _ I was really starting to like you _.”

“Hyung--” 

“But, he’s like that. He jokes like that all the time, it’s not--”

“Hyung.”

“He’s really playful, I don’t--”

“Hyung,” Chan says, loudly, smile on his face. “You’re so dumb.”

“What?” 

“He has feelings for you. I know it. I can feel it,” Chan grabs the left side of his chest, and pulls a dramatic expression. “Here.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Well,” Byeongkwan chimes in. “He did buy you a gold couple’s necklace.”

“That means nothing--”

“It does, hyung. Would he do that for anyone? Wouldn’t he get something cheaper, more casual if--if he didn’t have feelings for you?” 

“I’ve seen pictures of you two, and it’s different, Jun,” Byeongkwan says. “The way he looks at you. It can’t be fake. It can’t be.”

“He’s a good actor.”

“It’s different from the movie. You can just _ tell_. There’s a reason people believed you two.”

“Was he ever--” Chan clears his throat, and leans his head forward, voice going low. “_Intimate _ with you in private?” 

“Hey!” Junhee yells, reaching for a pillow to swing at his head. Chan reels back, laughing at clapping his hands together. “Don’t!” 

“Well,” Byeongkwan asks. “Was he?” 

Junhee thinks back to the hotel room, to the feeling of Donghun’s face, his chest, his arms. To the kiss at the press wrap, to the soft hand holding his under the table during interviews. 

“Not- not like that,” Junhee comments, defensive, reaching up to wipe the remnants of tears on his face. 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Chan giggles, standing up to go get the ice cream. 

“Isn’t this proof?” Byeongkwan says, gentle, small smile on his face, looking up at Junhee. “I know you’re-- you’re afraid of being hurt. But he cares about you, Junhee. And you care about him.” 

“What do I do now?” 

“Well,” Byeongkwan sits up, and takes the ice cream handed to him by Yuchan, who sits again on the other side of the sofa. “You go to him. And ask. There’s no other way.”

Junhee inhales shakily, and shuts his eyes again. His hands naturally clasp around the spoon that his friends push into his hands. 

“Okay,” he breathes, and opens his eyes. “Okay.” 

“Good,” Byeongkwan laughs, digging a spoon into the tub. “Now let’s hear about this _ intimacy-- _”

Yuchan laughs, squeaky, leaning back into the sofa, putting his spoon into his mouth. Junhee threatens Byeongkwan with his spoon, but he doesn’t stop the smile that makes it way across his face. 

━ 

Donghun is standing in front of the elevator when the doors open, and he’s the same. All mussed hair and soft features, big sweater exposing his collarbones, wide eyes looking Junhee up and down, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was here.

“Hi,” Junhee says. “Sorry I showed up out of the blue.” He twists the handle of the plastic carrier in his fist, trying to keep his gaze steady.

“It’s… no problem,” Donghun says. 

“Here,” Junhee thrusts the bag towards Donghun, arm fully extended so the clothes swing against his chest. “You left these at my place.” 

“Thank you,” he replies, softly, takes the bag into his hand. Junhee hopes he can look past the bargain store logo written across the side.

“Do you… want to come in? I can pour you some wine.”

“Yeah,” Junhee nods, small smile on his face. “Sure.” 

So they walk in, together, Donghun leading. He heads towards the bar, and sets down the plastic bag on the counter top. He reaches behind the counter and pulls out a bottle, setting it down heavily on the bartop. Junhee watches him as he whips out two accompanying wine glasses, and carefully pours them both, so as to not spill anything.

He looks around. The penthouse is no less impressive despite him having seen it before. The windows make the entire space look endless, showcasing a view of the city that’s hard to get your hands on without paying. 

Junhee takes his glass, and walks over to the window, entranced suddenly by the shine of city lights in the darkness, all glowing beneath them. If he looks hard enough, he can decipher the figures of streetlights, lining across roads that look too narrow to even walk across from this high. 

“It’s pretty, right?” Donghun comments, coming beside Junhee, taking a sip of his glass. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Junhee glances over at Donghun. His hair is down, face makeup-less, obviously not expecting visitors. His sweater hangs loosely off his frame, shoulders too wide, exposed skin appearing bronzed. His hair is longer than when they were in New York, strands falling into his eyes no matter how much he tries to sweep them back. 

Donghun continues to stare out over the city, paying no mind to Junhee staring at him. Junhee reaches back, and places his full glass on the table, before turning back to the window.

“Donghun,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” He tears his eyes away from the window, now focused on Junhee.

“This,” he says, gesturing between them both. “Is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” 

A bittersweet smile appears at Donghun’s mouth, and he looks down into his glass.

“I’m so glad I got to work with you,” Junhee continues. “Out of everyone, I never expected to be here, right now. I will… always be so thankful, that we got to work together, and that I got the chance to know you.” 

Donghun looks up at him.

“You’re one of the best people I know.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Donghun says, voice thick, shaking his head. “I know I’m not. I was-- so cruel to you. When we first met. The more I get to know you, the more I regret it.” 

“Donghun-”

“Out of everyone I’ve met,” he says, voice wavering. “I’ve never met someone who was so nice to me, for no reason. My friends, I only have a few... and I never expected to meet someone who would mean so much to me on a set like this. Everyone is always fame-hungry, everyone always has some ulterior motive.”

“Not me,” Junhee says, small.

“Not you,” Donghun chuckles, wiping his face with his free hand. “No, I-- wasn’t lying. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

Junhee bites his lip, gaze still on Donghun, heart beating in his throat. He has to do this. He has to do this. 

“Was it… was it fake?” 

“What?”

“For you. Was it all fake? Tell me the truth.” 

Donghun smiles weakly, and downs his glass in one go. He sets it behind him, next to Junhee’s full glass. There’s silence for a second, Donghun rubbing circles into his palm with his thumb. Junhee watches him, careful, not daring to breathe.

“No,” he replies, and he looks up at Junhee.

“When…” Junhee’s voice threatens to give out, but he clears his throat. “When did it become real?” 

There’s another moment of silence, and Junhee is afraid he’s said the wrong thing.

“When I realised you make me happy,” Donghun whispers. “You… cheer me up, and you-- you’re good, Junhee. I want to be around you… because you make me feel real. Even though we, we were fake. Everything you said to me, the way you-- made me laugh, yeah. I realised, because… I want to be around you all the time.”

Junhee feels like he can’t breathe. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” Junhee replies, tearful. “Shut up.” Donghun mouth opens, but he shuts it quickly. “Why do you always apologise when you’ve done nothing wrong? Why do you always act like you’re a bad person and then treat me like you do? You-- you were mean to me once, and you've never stopped apologising.”

Donghun looks as if he has something to say, but he if he does, he doesn’t say it. His expression is unreadable. 

“And you-- you make me want to be around you all the time too, okay? So, you’re not an asshole. Stop calling yourself one.” 

Junhee rubs at his eyes, wipes his palms down his face. Donghun simply looks at him, watery grin written across his face. 

“So, what? Are you going to kiss me or not?” 

Donghun reaches forward, pulls Junhee in by the waist. He almost falls from how sudden it is, but Donghun’s arms are around him, and his lips are on Junhee’s, and Junhee can feel his wet cheeks and warm skin and soft lips, and he reaches up with both arms to hook around Donghun’s neck, pulling him closer. 

He’s gentle, soft, just the right amount of strong, enveloping Junhee in his arms, and Junhee feels safe. Like no-one can touch him.

They pull away, and rest their foreheads together. Junhee reaches up to thumb Donghun’s cheeks, wipe the tears away that are falling. He laughs a little while he does it, looking at Donghun’s soft smile and closed eyes. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, moving his head against Donghun’s.

“God,” Donghun giggles. “Why are we-- such crybabies.” 

They both laugh, and Donghun’s grip around Junhee’s waist tightens. His hands are warm and soft against Junhee’s back, smile soft against Junhee’s forehead when he leans up to kiss him. 

There’s silence, but comfortable -- and they stay like that, holding each other.

“This is take three,” Junhee whispers.

“What?”

“We’ve had take two already, right? So this is our third time lucky.” 

“God,” Donghun laughs, breathy. “I love you so much.” 

And he leans forward, kissing Junhee again, winding his arms around Junhee’s middle and letting them sway on their feet. 

“I love you too,” Junhee mumbles, looking at Donghun as his face splits into a smile.

━

_ KBK: Well I guess it either went really well or really badly _

_ Channie: We’ll find out in the morning ;) _

  


_ Park Junhee: Good _

_ Park Junhee: I’ll tell you more about it later :) _

Donghun whines, sleepy, into Junhee’s back. He presses a kiss onto Junhee’s shoulder blade, peering over at his phone.

“Who are you texting?”

“Just Byeongkwan and Chan,” Junhee says, turning over so he’s facing Donghun.

“Mmm,” Donghun hums, eyes closed. “Byeongkwan as in Kim Byeongkwan? The dancer?” 

“Yeah,” Junhee says, eyes flickering over Donghun’s features, bloated with sleep. “How do you know him?” 

“My friend, Sehyoon,” Donghun laughs, warm and deep from the centre of his chest. “He’s obsessed with Byeongkwan’s dancing. He’s basically in love with him.” 

“Wait,” Junhee says, freezing. “Sehyoon? Like, Kim Sehyoon? The actor?” 

“Yeah,” Donghun says. “We went to university together.” 

“Oh my god,” Junhee giggles. “Oh my god, Byeongkwan is gonna wanna hear this--”

He tries to roll over, but Donghun throws an arm over his waist, pulls him closer.

“Don’t move,” Donghun whines. “Text him later.”

“You’re such a baby.” 

Donghun leans in, and kisses the corner of Junhee’s mouth.

“The baby wants to sleep.” 

“Okay,” Junhee giggles, giving in, snuggling closer to Donghun. “I’ll listen to the baby.”

Donghun steals a kiss from his lips, then another, then one on his cheek, his jaw, his nose. Giggling, Junhee tries to push him away, but Donghun holds his face in both of his hands, kissing him all over. 

“Ew,” Junhee groans, trying not to smile. “This isn’t sleeping.” 

“It’s better,” Donghun mumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Junhee’s eye.

Junhee opens his eyes, and sees Donghun above him -- perfect in the morning sun coming through the curtains -- golden, glowing, smile broad across his face, chest exposed, white blankets drawn up around him. He looks like everything Junhee has ever wanted. His hair is falling in his eyes, his skin is warm where it brushes against Junhee’s, and nothing has ever been more perfect.

Walking out of that room without his jacket feels like five minutes ago, but so much has happened since then. From the first meeting in Donghun’s apartment to the press tour to now, here, with Donghun looking down at him, Junhee thinks that they’ve both changed, and only for the better.

“I thought you’d stop doing that now,” Donghun laughs.

“What?” 

“Zoning out randomly.”

Junhee smiles, soft, feeling warmth bloom in his chest.

“I’m just looking at how pretty you are.”

Donghun hums in approval as he leans down and kisses Junhee again, chaste and sweet. 

“Sure,” he whispers against Junhee’s lips, trying to hold back a smile.

  


━

_ “He dmed me! Guys, guys, he DMed me! Kim Sehyoon DMed me! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Byeongkwan screams, distantly. _

_ Junhee looks over at Donghun, sitting on his counter, and he just shrugs, small smirk on his face. _

✩✩

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos or comment if you liked it bc i love reading them :D


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